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1 6 Gj-reat James Street , W.C. 



This edition was printed and made in England . 
It is limited to 975 copies on antique paper 

(numbered 76 to 1050) and seventy-five copies 
on English hand-made paper (numbered 1 to 75); 

of which this is number 



The Dedication 




The Contents 

Prefatory Note : P. ix. 

Note as to the Text : P. xi. 

Introduction : P. xix. 

Chronological Table : P. li. 

POEMS: P. i. 



P. 239. 

LETTERS: P. 249- 
Appendices : P. 301. 

Textual Notes : P. 327. 

Explanatory Notes: P. 353. 


T HE Earl of Rochester's work has never been edited. For the last 
hundred years or more it has never been reprinted. The eighteenth 
century kept the memory of him alive by frequent editions of some of 
his poems. They were for the most part obscene , so that a demand for them 
was nothing unusual. The greater part , and generally the best part , of his 
work was forgotten. Eleven years after Rochester's death , Thomas Rymer , 
collaborating with that excellent publisher Jacob Tonson, produced a text which 
compares favourably with its predecessors and which was used by Johnson in 
his edition of the English Poets. In the nineteenth century his political satires 
were reprinted privately , and recently a short selection of his lyrics has been 
published in one of a series of poetic anthologies (The Pembroke Booklets). None 
of the many other editions of his poems show signs of editorial supervision. 

This edition is nothing more than the largest collection of his poems and letters 
that has yet appeared in print. In no sense is it a definitive edition ; the biblio- 
graphy of his work is hardly less involved than that of Defoe's , and quite 
impossible to establish with any degree of assurance or satisfaction. Since his 
poems were written without a thought of futurity, it is unlikely that all of them 
will be found ; certain poems compare so closely with those of his certain com- 
position as to be attributable to him. But such attributions are not permanent, 
based only on fragmentary and often insufficient evidence, and are lucky if they 
are acceptable to other editors. 

Some will say, some have already said, that the Earl of Rochester is not 
worthy the honour of having his work collected and discussed. Accordingly he 
has been, and will continue to be, unjustly neglected. In his lifetime he was a 
subject for scandal and admiration, while his poems received equal measures 
of praise and blame. To-day it is far less easy to understand or to appreciate 
either him or his work, and until more light is thrown, not only on the literature 
of the Restoration, but also on the life of the age itself, both must remain in 
obscurity. What history conceals, fancy cannot bring to light. The period of 
Rochester's life , the last decade of the seventeenth century, is full of subjects for 
romance : “ wovon man nicht sprechen kann, dariiber musz man schweigen.” 

The main outlines of Rochester' s life are given in Grammont's Memoirs, 
in Bishop Burnet's Life and Death of the Earl of Rochester, and in an 
account of him, attributed to Saint Evremond, in a letter to the Duchess of 
Mazarine. Minor details are to be found in manuscripts and miscellanea of 
the period, and these are mentioned where necessary in footnotes. 

Throughout my work I have been helped and encouraged by Mr .F.L. Lucas 
and Mr. Charles Whibley. • I owe much to Messrs. Birrell and Garnett for 
their kindness in lending me books. I have also to thank the Rev. Montague 
Summers, a high authority on the literature of the Restoration , for his advice. 


A LL the editions of Rochester’s poems were published posthumously. The 
abbreviation of his life and a disinclination to prepare his work for the press 
-*■ were a cause of labour greater than his editors were prepared to undertake, 
with the result that as little was known of the authenticity of his text in the year of 
his death as is known to-day. During his lifetime a few poems were stolen from him 
and printed anonymously in miscellanies; some broadsides were cried about the 
streets of London; for the rest, they were passed round from hand to hand, copied 
no doubt, added to, and after his death if there was anything left of the paper, collected 
by a publisher, or friends, and printed. The story is involved but romantic. The 
autograph manuscripts, like so many printed ephemerae of the period, are lost and 
probably do not exist; what text the printer used lies beyond the bounds of conjecture, 
but it was often hopelessly corrupt and probably constituted by the aid of verbal 
memory. Edition after edition appeared, full of fresh matter, for many years, since 
the legend of Rochester’s life and death was cherished far into the eighteenth century. 
It is almost impossible to know exactly what was written by him, what was taken from 
him, how much the manuscripts were altered or added to in the press, and how many 
of his poems found their way into the rare miscellanies of the period, for as Burnet 
says: “When anything extraordinary . . . came out, as a child is fathered some- 
times by its resemblance, so it was laid at his door as its parent and author.” Much, 
indeed, of Rochester’s reputation as an obscene writer has been built up on attributions 
of this nature. 

In 1680, the year of his death, some of his poems were collected and surreptitiously 
printed in a small volume in duodecimo : “ Poems on Several Occasions, by the 
Rt. Hon. the E. of R. Antwerpen.” (London.) The text is hopelessly corrupt, 
and contains poems by the Earl of Dorset, Oldham, Captain Radcliffe and doubtless 
others, although it is impossible to pierce the veil of anonymity behind which every- 
thing is concealed. In 1685, 1701 and 1702 there are reissues of this edition — 
“ with modifications as by a late person of honour. Printed by A. Thornecombe.” 
The text has been improved considerably. The most satisfactory edition with Jacob 
Tonson as publisher appeared for the first time in 1691, with omissions and additions, 
a preface by Rymer, and Valentinian , , a tragedy, which had been printed six years 
earlier in quarto. “ This book,” says Rymer, “ is a Collection of such Pieces only, 
as may be received in a virtuous Court, and not unbecome the Cabinet of the Severest 
Matron.” It was reprinted in 1696 and 1705, and forms the basis of several later 
editions (e.g. 1710, to which is added Advice to a Painter). In 1707 a new collection 
was made: “The Miscellaneous Works of the Right Honourable the Late Earl of 
Rochester and Roscommon . . . Printed by B. Bragge.” This contains, for the 
first time. Saint tvremond’s account of Rochester’s life in a letter to the Duchess 
Mazarine, and a collection of poems by divers hands. Edmund Curll issued a second 
edition in 1709. The same text with certain alterations was printed in 1711 and 
1714. Tonson’s text with the addition of Rochester’s letters to Henry Savile and 
Mrs. Barry was printed in duodecimo in 1714 and 1732. Two unauthenticated and 
curious editions belong to the year 1718: (i) “ The Works of the Rt. Hon. J. E. of R., 

( *i) 


■g ==-=== 1 ssssss =sss==ss===s$£^^ ■" " ~ 3 > 

consisting of Satires, Songs and Translations and other occasional Poems.” (ii) 
“ Remains of the Rt. Hon. J. E. of R. being Satyrs, Songs and Poems. Never before 
published. From a Manuscript found in a Gentleman’s Library that was contem- 
porary with him.” In 1721 began the long series of editions of the “ Works of the 
Earls of Rochester, Roscommon, Dorset, the Duke of Devonshire, etc., in Two 
Volumes, adorn’d with Cuts.” Later editions contain the notorious “ Cabinet of 
Love ” and other additions, besides Memoirs of the Authors. , The best editions are 
those of the years 1731-1732 and 1739, but there are some ten reissues during the 
eighteenth century. In 1761 an anonymous publisher issued an extraordinary forgery, 
entitled: The Poetical Works of that Witty Lord John Earl of Rochester, left in 
Rangers Lodge in Woodstock Park where his Lordship died, and NEVER BEFORE 
PRINTED ...” A Preface explains how the poems were given by Rochester on 
his” death-bed to a manservant, who was commanded to have them destroyed, but 
Ivho disobeyed his master’s wishes, and dying many years after, left the manuscripts 
to his daughter. She, believing herself to be in possession of her father’s will, visited 
a young advocate who told her what the papers were, and knowing her to be poor, 
received them instead of a fee. The story seems to be a mere fabrication, for few of 
the poems can be by Rochester.* Some of them had been published in 1718 in the 
second of the two editions mentioned. Almost all of them exist in two manuscript 
volumes, formerly at Oxford and now in the British Museum: Harleian MSS., 6913 
and 6914: they were the source of the printed text. Some poems from this edition 
are reprinted here. 

The miscellanies, if used with caution, are found to contain valuable material. 
The most reliable is the set of four volumes of Poems on Affairs of State (1697-1 707) ; 
others are: Tate’s Miscellany, (1685); “The Temple of Death,” (1701); Gildon’s 
Miscellany, (1698)5 “Examen Miscellaneum,” , (1702). There are many more, 
too numerous to be mentioned, f and I do not profess to have examined those that may 
exist in private collections outside the British Museum and the Bodleian. The same 
remark applies to unpublished manuscripts, hidden away, perhaps, but almost certainly 

The text of the poems in this edition is taken from various sources; these are 
mentioned in the Textual Notes. The predominant texts are those of the editions 
of 1685, 1691 and 1707* I am fully aware that the first business of an editor is to 
exclude all but the earliest editions and thus avoid the errors of most editors in the 
last century. Whereas that is the only sure way of re-editing work that can be 
regarded as authentic and accurate in its earliest form, in this case, even when allowance 
has been made for the inefficient and hurried work of the printing-house, it is impos- 
sible to trust implicitly to the first edition of the text. In matters of personal judgment 
the greatest care is needed, and I have guided my decisions with extreme caution. 
My aim has been to choose a text which, after a careful comparison with that of other 
editions, seems to be least corrupt, and most likely to be Rochester’s. Some people 
may be disappointed at the absence of certain poems, which have been assigned to 

* The 1761 e ^? n stains corrections for the text of the first act of Hamlet, including the 
V^imm n JSon n ** ** (Em 70 wHch is by Furness in his 

t Where use has been made of them, reference is given in the Textual Notes. 

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— 1 1 ' = ^ !m ‘ g - „ — -3)» 

Rochester in the past. Thus there are poems in this volume from the Cabinet of 
Love edition, but none from the Cabinet of Love section itself. I do not believe that 
the Earl of Rochester was the author of such incompetent pieces as “ Bath Intrigues,” 
44 Lord Rochester on his Whore-pipe,” 44 The Dream,” 44 The Perfect Enjoyment,” 
etc., which only appear in editions many years after his death and bear no resemblance 
to his authentic work. Moreover, commonplace books of the last quarter of the 
seventeenth century in the British Museum, though containing the greatest part of 
Rochester’s work, do not record these particular pieces. Acquaintance with his poetry 
leads to a recognition of his peculiar style. For example, there is no mistaking his 
manner in the 44 Satire on Man,” and 44 His Farewell to the Court,” or even in porno- 
graphic poems, as the 44 Imperfect Enjoyment” and 44 The Charms of Hidden 
Treasure.” It is not surprising, therefore, having concluded from internal evidence 
that many of the poems in the first edition are by different hands (e.g. 44 The Ramble,” 
44 The Satires on E.H.,” etc.), to find that external evidence is in entire agreement. 
If more was known of Mr. Radcliffe,* Captain Ayloffe, and Mr. Fishbourne 
it would be possible to say who were the authors of much of the bawdy verse, 
wrongfully fathered on the Earl of Rochester. 

There are people who would print, indiscriminately, all that has ever been attributed 
to Rochester, leaving to the intelligence and industry of the reader the labour of 
sorting the good from the bad. Personally, I do not wish to be numbered among 
the pedants. In printing the largest collection of Lord Rochester’s work that has 
yet appeared, and in introducing it again after so many years, I have had to consider 
the patience of the reader as well as the reputation of the author. 

The Earl of Rochester’s adaptation of Fletcher’s tragedy of 44 Valentinian ” was 
first printed in the year 1685 in quarto with the following title-page: VALEN- 
TINIAN / A / TRAGEDY. / As ’tis Alter’d by the late / Earl of ROCHESTER / 
And Acted at the / THEATRE-ROYAL. / Together with a Preface concerning 
the Author / and his Writings. / By one of his Friends. / (Printers Device) LONDON : 

/ Printed for Timothy Goodwin of the Maiden-head against St. / Dunstans-CYiurdh in 
Fleet-street . 1685. All the later editions of Rochester’s Valentinian in octavo and 
duodecimo are reprints of this quarto. The Preface, full of splendid praise for Lord 
Rochester’s character and genius, was written by one of his intimate friends, Robert 
Wolseley, the eldest son of Sir Charles Wolseley. 

Moreover, in the British Museum there is a manuscriptf of Rochester’s Valentinian 
that may well be the original text. The title reads : Lucina’s Rape / or / The Tragedy 
of / Vallentinian / very much altered. The variant readings of the printed and 
manuscript versions are not considerable: in both there are additions and omissions, 
as well as differences in the arrangement of scenes. § The quarto text was printed 
from a MS. copy used by the prompter at the first performance. By Genest we are 
told the names of the actors on this occasion. The actors, however, named in the 
manuscript are different; the difference gives rise to an interesting problem — the date 

* His Carnal Ejaculations \ London, 1683, contains several poems printed in the first edition 
of the Earl of Rochester’s poems (1680). 

f Add. MSS. 28692, 75 folios. 

£ These words have been inserted by a different pen. 

§ Cf. Textual Notes to Valentinian , page 335. 

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of composition. The following are names of the actors appended to the dramatis 
personae of the quarto and MS. texts respectively: 



iEcius/The Roman General 
JA'jiximus, Lt Generali 
"rontius, a Captain 

Licinius-l servants to the 

Balbus j- Emperour. 

Proculus J 




Claudia t 

Marcelina f 

Ardelia [ 

Phorbia j 
Phidia 1 
Aretus / ■ 

Mr. Hart.f 
Mr. Moon. 

Mr. Winter — ell.f 
Mr. Liddle. 

Mr. Cartwright. 
Mr. Clarke, f 
Mrs. Marshallf 
Mrs. Cox.f 
Mrs. Boutall. 
Mrs. Cere. 

Mrs. Knept 

Quarto , 1685.* * * § 


Mrs. Barrey 

There is no earlier record of a performance of Valentinian than the entry (L.C. 
r/i 45 . p . 120) among the plays acted by the united companies in the Lord Chamber- 
lain’s Department of the Public Record Office: Warrant dated Jan: ioth 1684/85 
for plays acted from Nov. 5th 1677 to Jan. 2nd 1684/85 : ffeb: nth at Valentinian 

I0j £4 Two other entries are interesting. The first is addressed to the actors 

at the Theatre Ropl : “ These are to require you to Act the Play called the Tragedy 
of Valentinian at Court before his Mae U pon Munday night next being the Eleaventh 
of this moneth: Feb. 6th 1683/84.” The second to the Lord Steward: “These 
are to signify unto you His Ma^ Pleasure that you give order for Candles, and all 
other usuall Allowances of Bread, Beere, Wine and Coales to bee delivered unto 
John Clarke Keeper of the Theatre in Whitehall for the use of His Ma« Comoedians 
who are to act a Play at Court on Munday night next being the Eleaventh of ffebruary 
instant — And that you give order for Coales for ayreing the Play house the day before.” 
Feb. 9th 1683/84. To the Duke of Ormond, Lord Steward.” 

From internal evidence of the names of the actors appended to the dramatis personae 
of the manuscript, we must conclude that Valentinian was written before 1679, 
probably in the latter half of the previous year. Rochester’s health was then failing ;§ 
his interest in literature was also declining, and there is no doubt that the play was 
hurriedly put together. “ I am desir’d to let the World know,” writes Wolseley in 

* Cf. Downes : Roscius Anglicams, Genest. 

f Hart did not act after the amalgamation of the theatres in 1682. He died 20th August, 
1683. Mr. Wintershall, who died in 1679. Mrs. Marshall was not on the stage in 1680. 
Mr. Clarke and Mrs. Cox were not known after 1682. 

t L.C. 7/1 and L.C. 5/145, page 14. 

§ Cf. Rutland MSS., Vol. II, page 50 : “ Ld Rochester hath bin at the gates of Death.” 

( xiv ) 


- — f So S^ -’ " I g = = " — 3)* 

the Preface, “ that my late Lord Rochester intended to have alter’d and corrected 
this Play much more than it is, before it had come abroad, and to have mended not 
only those Scenes of Fletcher which remain, but his own too, and the Model of the 
Plot itself. If therefore the Reader . . . think the Plot too thin, or any of the Scenes 
too long, ’tis hop’d he will be so just to remember, that he looks upon an unfinish’d 
Piece. . . . We have all the reason imaginable to conclude from the correctness of 
his other Poetry, that had he lived to put the last Hand to this, he wou’d ha^ejeft 
true Cri ticks and impartial Judges no business but to admire.” 

Rochester intended to produce Valentinian in his lifetime and had chosen a cast 
for it; but the depression and weakness which overcame him in his fatal illness kept 
him away from the Court and Stage. His sensational decease and the widespread 
interest it produced in London were sufficient to guarantee a successful production 
of Valentinian even three years after. It was acted at the Theatre Royal in February, 
1683—84, and published in quarto in the following year from the manuscript used by 
the prompter at the first performance;* certain rearrangements were made in the 
order of the scenes,f and a mask (Act III, Scene 3), written by Sir Francis Fane, 
was probably included.:): Valentinian was revived on May 16th, 1687, at 

The plot of Valentinian , according to Langbaine, is taken from the Chronicles of 
Cassidorus, the History of Marcellas , the second book of Evagrius , from Procopius 
and others. It follows, with fair accuracy, the historical facts. J| 

There is no record of a revival of Valentinian on the stage. 

In the volume which contains the manuscript of Valentinian there is a transcript 
in the same hand of : 46 A Scaen from Sir Robert Hoard’s play by the Earl of Rochester.” 
It is printed here for the first time, and has been punctuated throughout, the MS. 
text being unstopped. 

Dryden’s brother-in-law. Sir Robert Howard, had written a play entitled The Con- 
quest of China ,^f and coming upon it many years later in an unfinished state had asked 
Dryden to revise it. In a letter to his son at Rome, dated September 3rd, 1697, 
Dryden mentions this play. “ After my return to town,” he writes, “ I intend to 
alter a play of Sir Robert Howard’s, written long since, and lately put by him into my 
hands: ’tis called The Conquest of China by the Tartars . It will cost me six weeks’ 
study, with the probable benefit of an hundred pounds.” Nothing more is known of 
this play, and the manuscript scene by Rochester is all that has been preserved. 

Mr. Allardyce Nicoll** would attribute it to Dryden on the frail evidence of (1) 
Dryden’s letter to his sons, (2) the conjecture that the manuscript was written after 
Rochester’s death, certain passages in Valentinian having been deleted, according to 
him, by the amanuensis after Jeremy Collier’s attack on the stage; (3) the fact that 
some of the verses are worthy of Dryden and that so much was attributed to Rochester 

* Cf. Prompter’s notes. Act III, Scene 3 ; Act IV, Scene 2 ; Act V, Scene 1. 

f Cf. Textual Notes. 

t Printed as an Appendix, page 315. 

§ L.C. 5/147, page 361. 

|| It seems unjust to speak of the “indescribable indecencies introduced by Rochester 
into Valentinian” Cf. Nicoll, Restoration Drama , p. 166. 

IT Elkanah Settle’s homonymous tragedy throws no light on this isolated scene. 

** Times Literary Supplement , January, 1921. 

( XV ) 


t : - = = ! g 3 * 

hat was not his. This savours too much of a form of criticism that fathers on the 
esser Elizabethans any passages in Shakespeare that are not of the highest merit. 

In spite of his remarkable interest in the stage, Lord Rochester had little of the 
playwright’s sense of the theatre. Doubtless he had experience of acting at Court, 
.nd he is known-to have produced Crowne’s Masque of Calisto , but his experiments 
n dramati^writing are more the recreations of the talented amateur than the con- 
idered Work of a professional dramatist. He lacked patience; steady application to 
hg/working out of an idea was foreign to his nature. He took Fletcher’s tragedy 
md left it more or less as he found it, designing but not completing a sketch for a new 
?ifth Act. The merit of the scene for Sir Robert Howard’s play is not in the relation- 
hips of the actors so much as in the heroic verse in which they express themselves; 
t is poetic, not dramatic. 

The Earl of Rochester’s letters to Henry Savile, and his Love Letters to Mrs. 
3arry were first published in two volumes at the beginning of the year 1697.* 
‘Familiar Letters: written by the Right Honourable John Late Earl of Rochester 
md several other persons of Honour and Quality. With LETTERS written by 
he most ingenious Mr. Thomas Otway and Mrs. K. Philips. Publish’d from their 
>riginal copies. With other modern letters. By Tho. Cheek, Esq., Mr. Dennis, and 
VIr. Brown. London: Printed by W. Onley, For Sam. Briscoe, at the corner of 
Charles Street, in Russel Street, Covent Garden. Vol. I.” The second volume has 
1 different title-page. “ Familiar Letters: Vol. II. containing Thirty Six Letters by 
he Right Honourable John, Late Earl of Rochester. Printed from his original Papers, 
;tc.” There was a second issue later in the year. The third edition, printed for 
Richard Wellington appeared in 1699. The same collection of letters was added 

0 the duodecimo edition of the Works published by Tonson in 1714 and 1732 and 
s reprinted here from the first edition. 

The majority of the letters to the Countess of Rochester, to Charles Wilmot, to 
he Earl of Lichfield, to Sir John Warre, and to his mother, although a few were 
>rinted in Antony Hammond’s Miscellany , 1720, and reprinted in Whartoniana , 1728, 
u*e printed for the first time in this edition from the important autograph manuscript 
Karleian 7003 at the British Museum. The carelessness and obvious haste with which 
»ome of them were written have made it necessary for me to supplement the punctua- 
tion. MSS. Add. 4162 contains copies of many of these letters. The letter to Lord 
Essex on behalf of Nell Gwynne (p. 298) is printed for the first time from an auto- 
graph copy in the Correspondence of Arthur Capel, Earl of Essex, 1672-1679 (Brit. 
Mus. MSS. Stowe, 21 1, f. 330). The letter to Dr. Pierce, master of Magdalen 
college, and afterwards Bishop of Salisbury, is reproduced from : A Supplement to 
he Anecdotes of some Distinguished Persons. London. 1797. The letter to Dr. 
Burnet is printed from the first edition, a broadsheet, published in 1680, the year of 
Rochester s death, by Richard Bentley in Russel Street near Covent Garden. 

Very few of the letters are dated, but where internal evidence is sufficiently obvious 

1 have supplied dates in square brackets, arranging the letters in chronological order 
is far as possible. 

Of the many publications of a purely pornographic character which were produced 
ifter the Restoration, the play Sodom is perhaps the only one that has survived to 

* Arber : The Term Catalogues. 

( xvi ) 


■ a ; — - 3). 

this day. To the ordinary reader the play can have little interest, although to the 
amateur de pornographie it may seem to possess outstanding merits. It is supposed 
to have been printed in 1684 at Antwerp, and the initials E. of R. are given 
on the title-page. No copies r of the original edition are known to exist, the 
last having been destroyed by the executors of the Heber Library in the nineteenth 
century. Reprints of it are extremely scarce and difficult to come by, while the trouble 
of obtaining the manuscript at the British Museum is poorly rewarded. Several 
manuscripts exist, amongst which are Harleian 7312 at the British Museum and a 
transcript in the Town Library at Hamburg, bound up with the manuscript of 
Beverlandia Otia Ox omens a* Adaptations in French were made in 1744, 1752 
and 17673 extracts are given by Pisanus Fraxi in Genturia Librorum Absconditorum : 
London, 1879, and the whole of the German MS. has been reprinted recently at 

The principal text is the manuscript at the British Museum with the following 
title: 44 Sodom, or The Quintessence of Debauchery, by the E. of R. Written for the 
Royal Company of Whoremasters.” There is no date or motto. There are five acts, 
two prologues (72 11 : 29 11), two epilogues (29 11:51 11), followed by ten lines 
of obscene verse. 

The manuscript at Hamburg is a poor transcript, probably by a German amanuensis, 
with certain variations: 44 Sodom, a play by the E. of R. (motto).” The five acts are 
preserved, but there is only one prologue (100 11), the dramatis personae are given, 
and the epilogues remain unchanged. One of its owners, Z. C. Offenbach of Frankfort, 
has expanded the initials on the title-page to 44 the Earl of Rochester.” It was pre- 
sented to the Hamburg Stadt Bibliothek by Professor Wolff. The modern reprint, 
with a painstaking preface wholly in the tradition of German scholarship, endeavours 
to prove that Rochester was the author. There is sufficient evidence, I hope, to 
show that this was not so. The value of internal evidence has been overrated, but 
a single reading of this play makes it difficult to believe that Rochester had any hand 
in its composition. For it seems to lack those 44 peculiar Beauties ” which, according 
to Saint Evremond, makes his looser Songs and pieces 44 too dangerous to peruse.” 
There are three pieces of external evidence: (1) Rochester wrote a poem “on the 
Author of a Play called Sodom ” in which these lines occur: 

44 Weak feeble strainer at meer Ribaldry 
Whose Muse is impotent to that Degree, 

That must like Age, be whipt to Lechery.” 

It is possible, but it seems unlikely, that he wrote this against himself. (2) In a foot- 
note to this poem in the edition of 1731 the author of Sodom is given as 44 one Fish- 
bourne a wretched Scribbler.” Nothing is known of him except that he was a member 
of the Inns of Court, but the belief that he was the author of Sodom is shared by the 
authors of most of the contemporary and later reference books on drama.f ^ In 
Biographia Dramatica there is the following entry: 44 Sodom. A Play by Mr. Fish- 

* A third MS. is mentioned by the editor of the German reprint, bound up in a volume 
of poems wanting the title, prologues, epilogues, dramatis personae and the whole of Act V 3 
it is at The Hague. Another MS. is in the Dyce Collection at South Kensington, 
t Of Genest, Baker, etc. 

b ( xvii ) 


■ i -ffa = ' • 

bourne. At what time this infamous piece was published we know not; but the 
bookseller, with a view of making it sell, by passing it on the public as Lord Rochester s, 
put the letters E. R. in the title-page.” Another account is not without interest: 
u Mr. Fishbourne. This gentleman belonged to the Inns of Court, and is only 
mentioned here by way of perpetuating that infamy which he has justly incurred, by 
being known to be the author of a dramatic piece entitled: SODOM. This play is 
so extremely obscene, and beyond all bounds indecent, that even the Earl of Rochester, 
whose libertinism was so professed and open, and who scarcely knew what the sense 
of shame was, could not bear to undergo the imputation of being the author of this 
piece (which in order to make it sell, was published with initial letters in the title, 
intended to misguide the opinion of the public, and induce them to fix it on that 
nobleman), and published a copy of verses to disclaim his having had any share in the 
composition; nor has it indeed any spark of resemblance to Lord Rochester’s wit, 
could that ever have atoned (which, however, it could by no means have done) for 
the abominable obscenity of it. . . (3) The last piece of evidence is important. 

Otway, in the eighth stanza of “ The Poet’s complaint to his Muse,” reviewing the 
poets of the town, writes: 

“ The first was he who stunk of that rank Verse 
In which he wrote his Sodom farce 
A Wretch whom old Diseases did so bite 
That he writ Bawdy sure in spight, 

To ruin and disgrace it quite. 

Then next there followed to. make up the Throng 
Lord Lampoon and Monsieur Song” 

It is reasonable to conjecture that the Earl of Rochester is intended to be “ Lord 
Lampoon,” which therefore differentiates him from the author of Sodom. 

The suggestion that Sodom was acted at Court cannot be verified, although it seems 
likely that the Court played Sodom at a private performance, in the nature of a charade 
in which Rochester may have taken a part. 

( xviii ) 


“ f | AHE year 1648,” says Saint fivremond,* with elegance, though inaccurately, 
I “ was distinguished from other years by two extraordinary events, the 

-*• martyrdom of King Charles I by a prevailing party of his subjects at his 

own Palace Window, and the birth of my Lord Rochester, as eminent for Wit and 
Gallantry as that unfortunate king was for Piety and Religion.” Charles I was 
beheaded in 1649; J°hn Wilmot, who was to become the second Earl of Rochester, 
was born two years earlier, on the 1st of April, 1647,! at Ditchley in Oxfordshire, 
before the second outbreak of civil war which was to end in theabolition of the Monarchy 
and the birth of the Commonwealth. In retrospect it is clear that the spirit of revolu- 
tion, which destroyed the peace of the country after a remarkable period of prosperity, 
had disturbed also the repose of men’s minds. Slowly, imperceptibly, a change was 
stealing over the people, for whom many of the old traditions and beliefs were no 
longer acceptable. Before, they had been content to applaud the triumphant march 
of the Renaissance across Europe ; their early amazement afterwards turned to enquiry, 
and they began to look for a meaning in that proud manifestation. The change in 
attitude, sudden enough from our point of view, was not so apparent then. Standing 
outside and beyond a given period of time, a man may feel the rhythm of that period, 
as a succession of varying impulses that elude the vigilance of a contemporary. Thus 
it is that an age, rather than sixteen years, separates John Wilmot’s birth from that 
solemn preaching of Death’s Duel by Dr. Donne. For the horrors of corruption 
and the fear of hell-fire were losing their ancient dominion; they belonged, together 
with Milton’s cosmology and the imagination of a Sir Thomas Browne, to a class of 
almost mediaeval superstition which was soon to be engulfed by a wave of fresh and 
vital thought. The end of the seventeenth century is the beginning of a new, the 
so-called modern world. Into this changing world Lord Rochester, a singularly 
modern character, was born. 

Little is recorded of his childhood, but his family, although supporting the Royalist 
cause, was glad to continue quietly in the country, unmolested by the passage of the 
Puritan regiments. When his son was four years old, Henry Wilmot saved Charles’s 
life after Worcester field, hid him in the famous oak, and finally succeeded in reaching 
the Continent, where he died at Cologne in 1658, worn out in the service of his exiled 

* “ Some Memoirs of the Life of John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester, by Monsieur de Saint 
^vremond in a letter to the Duchess de Mazarine.” This is a preface to the 1707 edition of 
Rochester’s and Roscommon’s works. Des Maizeaux, Saint Bvremond’s editor, is uncertain of 
the author of the essay. [Cf. Cibber’s Lives, II, p. 273.] 

f The year of Rochester’s birth is usually given as 1648, an error which was perpetuated 
by Saint ^vremond and Wood from Burnet, but Gadbury in his almanack for 1695 gives the 
year 1647 from direct evidence. In his Epkemeris for 1698, Gadbury preserved Rochester’s 
horoscope : “John, Earl of Rochester was bom anno 1647 on April the xst day, 11 h. 7 m. 
A.M. and endued with a noble and fertile muse. The sun governed the horoscope, and the 
moon ruled the birth-hour. The conjunction of Venus and Mercury in M coeli, in sextile of 
Luna, aptly denotes his inclinations to poetry. The great reception of Sol with Mars and Jupiter 
posited so near the latter, bestowed a large stock of generous and active spirits, which constantly 
attended on this excellent native’s mind, insomuch that no subject came amiss to him.” 

( xix ) 


master. In that year John Wilmot succeeded to the titles which had been conferred 
upon his father by Charles, benefits without emolument, the only value of which 
was the dignity and respect conferred upon their holder when he made his first 
appearance at Court after the Restoration as “ Earl of Rochester, Baron Vyilmot of 
Adderbury in England, and Viscount Wilmot of Athlone in Ireland. His father s 
remains were brought to England, and committed without ceremony to the family 
vault at Spilsbury Church in Oxfordshire. To the wisdom and economy of his 
mother the young earl owed the advantages of a careful education. She was a woman 
of great parts, of the ancient Wiltshire family of the St. Johns, extraordinarily judicious 
and broadminded, and commanding the respect of her son at all times, a ^ respect 
which, if we read some of his letters, amounted sometimes almost to fear. I have 
been as good a husband as possible,” he writes, * but have been fain to borrow money, j" 
And elsewhere in a letter to his wife: “ Excuse the ink and paper to my mother, 
they are the best the time and place afford.”^: 

He was sent' to the Grammar School at Burford, then governed by John Martin, 
where he showed for the first time his inclinations towards literature 5 we learn from 
St. ^vremond that “ he was so extremely docile and made such an early progress in 
learning on his first Application to letters at School, as discover’d the seeds of that 
great genius, that afterwards appeared more conspicuously in his riper years.Ӥ At 
home he was cared for by Mr. Giffard, || chaplain to his mother; Hearne, the Oxford 
antiquary, remembers Giffard telling him that he was “ tutor to the Earl of Rochester 
(Mad Rochester) before he came to Wadham College ... and that he was then 
a very hopefull youth, very virtuous, and good natured (as he was always), and willing 
and ready to follow good advice . . . [that] he was to have come to Oxford with 
his Lordship, and to have been his governour, but was supplanted. Mr. Giffard 
used to lie with him in the family, on purpose that he might prevent any ill accidents.”^ 
But the seclusion and limitations of a country school were not sufficient to satisfy an 
almost precocious love of letters for their own sake ; so that, on the 18th of January, 
1660, at the age of twelve, he entered Wadham College, Oxford, as a nobleman, and 
was placed in the care of that admirable Divine, Dr. Blandford, afterwards Bishop of 
Worcester. This was the year of the restoration of the monarchy. On the 8th of 
May Charles II was proclaimed king in Westminster Hall, and on the 28th he reached 
Dover; three days later, amidst general rejoicing, he passed “through a lane of 
happy faces ” to Whitehall. “ When Rochester went to the University,” says Burnet, 
“ the general Joy which overran the whole Nation . . . but was not regulated with 
that Sobriety and Temperance, that became a serious gratitude to God for so great a 
Blessing, produced some of its ill effects on him; he began to love these disorders 
too much.”** We can only conjecture what form these disorders took, but in one so 
young they can only have been a liveliness of spirits and a natural taste for any frivolous 

* Cockayne’s Peerage . j- Letter LV. $ Letter LXXI. 

§ Letter to the Duchess of Mazarine. 

II Francis Giffard, a non-juror, was born in 1631, and retired to Oxford at the end of his 
life for “ honest company and the public library.” 

IT Re li quite He ami ante. Entry November 1 6 th, 1 7 1 1 , so that Giffard’s reminiscences of what 
had happened fifty years earlier cannot be entirely reliable. 

** u Some Passages of the Life and Death of ... the Earl of Rochester by Gilbert Burnet, 
D.D., 1680,” page 3. 

( xx ) 

" ■■■■■' 1 11 - S o S"— — — 

adventure. However, the young earl is placed in the more immediate care of one of 
the fellows of the college, Phineas Berry. “ By degrees his Governor made him 
perfectly in Love with Knowledge; in the pursuit of which he always spent those 
hours which he sometimes stole from the Witty and the Fair.”* Saint ifivremond 
adds that in spite of the restrictions of a tutor he was tempted by pleasures to which 
his tastes were singularly well adapted, so that before long his application to study 
relaxed. A physician, Robert Whitehall, a fellow; of Merton College, was also engaged 
as a tutor for Lord Rochester; according to Anthony Wood he is said to have 44 abso- 
lutely doted ” on his pupil, and by the same authority we are told that Rochester’s 
contributions to the Oxford Miscellanies in 1660 and 1661 on the restoration of 
Charles and on the death of Princess Mary of Orange were composed by Whitehall, 
who proudly added the name 44 Johannes Wilmot” to each before he sent them to 
press.f During his residence at Oxford his love for the classics, more especially for 
Latin, deepened; 44 he never lost a true taste of any Sovereign Beauty,” writes Saint 
£vremond, 44 of those great Authors of that language in its most flourishing Age, 
I mean that of Horace, Virgil, Ovid and the like. . . .” These were the authors 
that were to solace his hours of leisure in the country in after-life. As regards his 
learning, there is an agreement among his biographers that is wholly convincing. 44 He 
was a person,” writes Wood, 44 of most rare parts, and his natural Talent was excellent, 
much improved by Learning and Industry, being thoroughly acquainted with the 
Classic Authors, both Greek and Latin ; a thing very rare (if not peculiar to him) 
among those of his quality.” Burnet, moreover, seeing him, perhaps for the first time, 
some four years after, tells us that Rochester 44 had made himself Master of the Ancient 
and Modern Wit, and of the Modern French and Italian as well as the English.” 
Only his earliest tutor, Giffard, still jealous perhaps in his old age of those who had 
supplanted him fifty years earlier, says 44 that my lord understood very little Greek, 
and that he had but little Latin, and that therefore ’tis a great mistake in making him 
(as Burnet and Wood have done) so great a master of Classic Learning.’^ And 
Mr. Collins of Magdalen told Hearne thirty years after Rochester’s death that 44 the 
mad Earl understood little or nothing of Greek.Ӥ Rochester was not a scholar, 
44 he was perfectly well-bred,” but the memories of two old dons, though they deserve 
recording, cannot persuade us that Rochester knew nothing of the Ancients. In 
the autumn of 1661, on the 9th of September, Rochester was admitted to the degree 
of Master of Arts. The scene of his admission in Convocation was peculiarly honour- 
able, 44 for he, and none else, was admitted very affectionately into the Fraternity by 
a Kiss on the left Cheek from the Chancellor|| of the University who then sat in the 
supreme Chair to honor that Assembly.”^ As a record of his affection for Wadham, 
he presented to that college in 1662 four silver pint pots.** 

There is no evidence when Rochester set out on his travels; it was probably at the 
end of 1661 or early in the following year. Dr. Balfour was appointed as his tutor, 

* Letter to the Duchess of Mazarine. 

■f* Athena Oxoniensis . Antony Wood. See these poems, page 49 seq. 

ij: Re li quia Heamiana . § Ibid. 

|| Lord Clarendon, Chancellor of England and of the University of Oxford. 

IF Wood : Fasti Oxoniensis. 

** I am told that these were replaced for four others (which bear his inscription, however) 
in order to match a set. 

( xxi ) 


and together they travelled in France and Italy. Forgues suggests that they visited 
the Pope, Antony Hamilton, Anne de Gonzague at the H6tel de Nevers, Madame 
de Sevigne, and supped at Saint Cloud 44 chez M. de Ryer, avec Desbarreaux, * 
but the source of this information is not exposed, so that it cannot be regarded as 
more than reasonably likely. In 1664, at the age of seventeen, he presented him- 
self at Whitehall and made his first brilliant appearance at Court. London was still 
celebrating the King’s marriage with Katherine of Braganza, which had drawn 
England into alliance with France and Portugal against Spain and had increased English 
trading facilities in the East and West Indies. 44 It was a golden age, truly, in which 
life seemed desirable for its own sake, and in which nobody thought of its drearier 
purpose.” f Freedom from the mortifying restrictions of the Puritans produced that 
excitable, care-free state of mind, half hedonist, half Hobbist, characteristic not only 
of the courtiers but also of the King himself; and this same carelessness of manner 
exercised itself in what Rochester calls 44 the three businesses of the Age, Women, 
Politicks, and Drinking, and often in all of them at the same time, so that we find 
in later years the Council summoned to the cabinet of the King’s mistress, while the 
most disgraceful political intrigues are planned in the secrecy of the 44 Backstairs.” 
The tragedy of Charles’s reign is a tragedy of incompatibility. Above the brightness 
of masque and revelry hung the cloud of politics, and the men who were destined 
for the service of the State were also those whose interests were fixed more on the 
winning of a woman’s heart than on a victory at sea. Lord Rochester’s appearance 
at Court is almost contemporaneous with that of Philibert, Comte de Grammont,§ 
its early chronicler, who, accustomed as he was to the grandeur of Versailles, 
was 44 surprized at the politeness and splendour of the Court of England.” If the 
Court, ever ready to welcome a new-comer into its society, had received the French- 
man with pleasure and respect, it saluted the young Earl of Rochester with every mark 
of the highest admiration. 44 He appeared,” writes Burnet, 44 with as great Advan- 
tages as most ever had.” Indeed, the memory of the father would have drawn atten- 
tion to the son even if the boy’s personal beauty had not been remarkable. But 44 his 
Person was graceful, tho’ tall and slender, his Mien and shape having something 
extremely engaging,”!] an( * the charm of his appearance subdued the hearts of all who 
saw him. 

The adventurous spirit that had been so hardly governed at Oxford, now no longer 
guided by the hand of a tutor, broke loose in the following year when he attempted 
to abduct a young lady who had rejected his suit. An entry in Pepys’ Diary for May 
28th, 1665, records the details of the affair : 44 To my Lady Sandwich, where, to my 
shame, I had not been a great while. Here, upon my telling her a story of my lord 
Rochester’s running away on Friday night last (May 26th) with Mrs. Malet, the 
great beauty and fortune of the North, who had supped at White Hall with Mrs. 
Stewart,** and was going home to her lodgings with her grandfather, my lord Haley, jf 

* E. D. Forgues : La Revue des Deux Mondes, August, 1857. 

f Charles Whibley: The Court Poets. 4 Letter XIII. 

§ He arrived in England in 1662 after the royal marriage. 

|| St. Evremond. Letter to the Duchess of Mazarine. 

^ Elizabeth Malet, daughter of John Malet of Enmore in Somerset. 

La belle Stewart who became Duchess of Richmond, and who, tradition says, was the 
loveliest woman at the Court of Charles II. ft Lord Hawley. 

( xxii ) 


-g ===== $£&== ===== => 

by coach : and was at Charing Cross seized on by both horse and footmen, and forcibly 
taken from him, and put into a coach with six horses, and two women provided to 
receive her, and carried away. Upon immediate pursuit, my lord Rochester (for 
whom the King had spoke to the lady often, but with no success) was taken at Uxbridge; 
but the lady is not yet heard of and the King mighty angry and the Lord sent to the 
Tower. Thereupon my Lady did confess to me, as a great secret, her being concerned 
in this story. For if this match breaks between my Lord Rochester and her, then, 
by the consent of all her friends, my Lord Hinchingbroke stands fair, and is invited 
for her. She is worth, and will be at her mother’s death (who keeps but a little from 
her) £2500 per annum. Pray God give a good success to it! ” On the 6th of June 
Pepys is told by Lady Sandwich that “ my Lord Rochester is now declaredly out of 
hopes of Mrs. Malet, and now she is to receive notice in a day or two how the King 
stands inclined to the giving leave to my Lord Hinchingbroke to look after her, and 
that being done, to bring it to an end shortly.” But the affair fell into abeyance, 
and Rochester’s suit succeeding, he was married to her early in 1667. Until this 
date he was otherwise occupied. Charles’s favour did not keep him long in the 
Tower, because at the outbreak of the first Dutch War in the summer of 1665 
he volunteered his services,* and on the 1st of August he is on board the Royal 
Catharine with Sir Thomas Teddeman in the harbour of Bergen. In a letter to his 
mother,f addressed “from the coast of Norway amongst the rocks . . he gives a 
vivid description of the unsuccessful attack on the Dutch fleet. On this occasion 
we cannot doubt his self-control and courage, though they were called in question in 
after years.:): “ Mr. Montague,” he writes, “ and Thomas Windham’s brother were 
both killed with one shott just by me, but God Almighty was pleased to preserve 
me from any kind of hurt.” After the death of these two friends his mind was strongly 
influenced by certain speculations which had been his study at Court and which, accord- 
ing to Wood, made him “ a perfect Hobbist.” “ He loved to talk and write of 
Speculative Matters, and did it with so fine a thread that even those who hated the 
Subjects that his Fancy ran upon, yet could not but be charmed with his way of 
treating them.Ӥ Bishop Burnet relates how he became more confirmed in these 
courses: “ When he went to sea in the year 1665, there happened to be in the same 
ship with him Mr. Montague and another Gentleman of Quality; these two, the 
former especially, seemed persuaded that they should never return to England. Mr. 
Montague said, He was sure of it: the other was not so positive. The Earl of 
Rochester, and the last of these, entered into a formal Engagement, not without Cere- 
monies of Religion, that if either of them died, he should appear, and give the other 
notice of the future State, if there was any. But Mr. Montague would not enter into 
the Bond. When the day came that they thought to have taken the Dutch Fleet in 
the Port of Bergen, Mr. Montague, though he had such a strange Presage in his Mind 
of his approaching Death, yet he generously staid all the while in the place of greatest 
danger: The other Gentleman signalised his Courage in a most undaunted manner, 

* Letter LV. “ It was not fitt,” lie writes, “ for mee to see any occasion of service to the King 
without offering my self.” 

t Ibid. ' ' 

ij: A Person of Honour told Burnet, “ he heard the Lord Clifford, who was in the same 
ship, often magnifie his Courage at that time very highly.” 

§ Burnet : Life . 

( xxiii ) 


« ■ — & = » 

till near the end of the Action, when he fell into such a trembling that he could 
scarce stand; and Mr. Montague going to him to hold him up, as they were in each 
other’s Arms, a Cannon Ball killed him outright, and carried away Mr. Montague’s 
Belly so that he died within an hour after* The Earl of Rochester told me that these 
Presages they had in their minds made some impression on him, that there were 
separated Beings; and that the Soul, either by natural sagacity, or some secret Notice 
communicated to it, had a Sort of Divination: But that Gentleman never appearing 
was a great snare to him, during the rest of his life, f . 

A faithful record of Rochester’s next adventure is kept by Burnet. The rigours 
of the Season, the hardness of the Voyage, and the extreme danger he had been in 
[did not] deter him from running the like on the very next Occasion; For the summer 
following he went to Sea again, without communicating his design to his nearest 
Relations. He went aboard the Ship commanded by Sir Edward Spragge the day before 
the great Sea-Fight of that Year: Almost all the Volunteers that were in the same 
Ship were killed. Mr. Middleton ... was shot in his Arms. During the Action, 
Sir Edward Spragge, not being satisfied with the behaviour of one of the Captains, 
could not easily find a Person that would cheerfully venture through so much 
danger, to carry his Commands to that Captain. This Lord offered himself to 
the Service; and went in a little Boat, through aU the shot, and delivered his 
Message, and returned back to Sir Edward; which was much commended by all 
that saw it.” 

The gaiety of the Court to which Rochester returned was not damped by the 
disastrous plague of the previous year or the equally disastrous fire in the early autumn 
of 1666. At Whitehall Rochester was received honourably by the King, who 
appointed him Gentleman of the Bedchamber^ a position carrying an emolument of 
£1000 a year,§ and placed him in command of a troop of horse.|| His reputation 
was now advanced to that high state of honour, that he could try his hand once again 
with the heiress he had attempted to seduce. Her great fortune was a prize that 
many hoped to win; “ Mr. Ashburnham at dinner,” writes Pepys, on November 25th, 
1666, “ told how the rich fortune, Mrs. Malet, reports of her servants ; that my Lord 
Herbert would have her; my Lord Hinchingbroke was indifferent to have her"; my 
Lord John Butler might not have her; my Lord Rochester would have forced her, 
and Sir [Francis] Popham (who nevertheless is likely to have her) would do anything 

* Cf. Arlington Letters, II, 87. 

f For an account of this engagement see Sir Gilbert Talbot’s relation in Harleian MSS. 

$ State Papers, Domestic, CXXXV, 3. 

§ “ 1673. Jan. 22nd. Order by Thomas, Viscount Latimer to Sir Robert Howard, 
Auditor of the Exchequer, to pay to John, Earl of Rochester, one of the gentlemen 
of H.M. Bedchamber, his yearly pension of £1000.” (Laing MSS., Edinburgh 

|| I can trace but two references to Lord Rochester’s troop, one an entry among the State 
Papers, Domestic, for August 24th, 1681, when Stephen College, who had tried to bring about 
the Countess of Rochester’s conversion to Popery, is mentioned as a Trooper in this regiment ; 
the other in State Papers, Domestic, CLXV, 14, where there is a grant of a Commission of 
Quarter Master to the Troop. On June 13th, 1667, Rochester became a Captain in Prince 
Rupert’s Regiment of Horse. [Cf. Ent. Bk. 20.] 

( xxiv ) 


=— — = &= ~ ' * 

to have her.” The many suitors retired in favour of Lord Rochester who was married 
to “ la triste heritiere ”* on January 29th, 1666-67.! 

About this time, according to Burnet, “ the Court fell into much extravagance in 
masquerading, both King and Queen, and all the Court, went about masked, and 
came into houses unknown, and danced there with a great deal of wild frolic.” At 
Whitehall there were magnificent Balls ; the courtiers, avoiding the gloomy subject 
of politics, spent their time discussing the latest intrigues of the ladies-in-waiting and 
the sumptuous preparations for the next entertainment. The Playhouses were 
thronged at every performance. “ My wife and I out to the Duke’s Playhouse,” 
writes Pepys, “and there saw Heraclius y an excellent play, to my extraordinary 
content; and the more from the house being very full, and great company; among 
others, Mrs. Stewart, very fine, with her locks done up with puffes. . . . There I 
saw my Lord Rochester and his lady, Mrs. Malet, who hath after all this ado married 
him; and, as I hear some say in the pit, it is a great act of charity, for he hath no 
estate.”! In the middle of all this careless revelry the Dutch sailed up the Medway 
and fired the English Fleet. The disgrace, however, meant little to the nobility, who 
were glad to make the Treaty of Breda, signed in July, 1667, an occasion for further 
celebrations. During these festivities Lord Rochester made the acquaintance of four 
of the brightest luminaries of the Court: George Villi ers, the second Duke of Buck- 
ingham; Charles Sackville, who was to become Earl of Dorset; Sir Charles Sedley, 
and Henry Savile. These were his companions in adventures that, in later years, 
were to bring so much notoriety on his name. He was now twenty years old; “ his 
Wit was strong, subtil, sublime, sprightly; he was perfectly well-bred, adorn’d with 
a natural modesty which extreamly became him. He was Master of both the Ancient 
and Modern Authors, as well of as all those in the modern French and Italian, to say 
nothing of the English, which were worthy of the Perusal of a man of fine Sense. 
From all which he drew a conversation so engaging that none could enjoy without 
Admiration and Delight, and few without Love.Ӥ Besides, we are to infer that 
“ his Genius was so luxuriant, that he was forc’d to tame it with a Hesitation in his 
Speech to keep it in view.”|| These extraordinarily engaging qualities were exploited 
by all who kept him company, and it is after his return to Court that two “ Principles 
in his Natural Temper,” as Burnet calls them, “ a violent love of Pleasure, and a 
disposition to extravagant mirth,” appeared more strongly than ever before. Excessive 
drinking, which finally ruined his health, was due to a not uncommon causej since 
the charms of his conversation “ drew every man of Taste to engage him with a 
Bottle, his pleasing extravagance encreasing with his Liquor, the Frolicks that inspir’d, 
affording Talk for the Town, as well as the adventures in it for some time after.”^f 
The same tale is told by Antony Wood**: “The eager Tendency,” he says, “and 

* The tide, according to Hamilton, of the supposed portrait of Mrs. Malet. 

f “Jan. 29, 1666/7. This morning the Earl of Rochester was married to Mrs. Malet, 
Lord Hawley’s grand-child, to whom Lord John Buder had for some time made his addresses.” 
MS. belonging to S.H. Le Fleming at Rydal Hall. 

! 4th of February, 1666/7. 

§ Saint ^vremond. Letter to the Duchess of Mazarine. 

|| Nathaniel Lee : Princess of Cleve, Act I, Scene 2. See post, page xlv. 

V Saint ^vremond. Letter to the Duchess of Mazarine. 

** Athene ? Oxoniensis. 

( XXV ) 



: 2 >« 

violent Impulses of his natural Temper, unhappily inclining him to the excesses of 
Pleasure and Mirth; which with the pleasantness of his unimi table Humour, did so 
far engage the Affections of the dissolute towards him, that to make him delightfully 
adventurous and frolicksome to the utmost degrees of riotous Extravagancy, they for 
some years heightened his Spirits (enflamed by Wine) into one almost uninterrupted 
fit of Wantonness and Intemperance.”* At Court, the admiration he had excited on 
his first appearing there, grew first of all into respect, and in a short time to a degree 
of fear that amounted, more especially among the ladies-in- waiting and their mistresses, 
to terror. Very few escaped his satire, and the reputation of many crumbled before 
the violence of his invective. 44 He was the only man who had a true vein for satire,” 
writes one whose fame was largely built on his own talent as a satirist.j* 44 There 
were some people,” he told Burnet, 44 who could not be kept in order or admonished 
but in this way.” The Temples and Prices winced at the frightful and hideous way 
in which their characters were torn to pieces. Concealed behind the beauties of his 
conversation and the charm of his flattery was the uncertainty of his object, which 
might be either a desire to pick up subject matter for a lampoon or a real longing to 
show his affection and interest. 44 II entre dans vos gouts, dans tous vos sentiments, 
et tandis qu’il ne dit pas un mot de ce qu’il pense, il vous fait croire tout ce qu’il dit.”± 
It was Lord Rochester’s custom to spend the summer months in the country, 
sometimes at his wife’s home at Enmore in Somersetshire, sometimes at his own house 
on the green at Adderbury. These periods of voluntary exile were a means of con- 
serving his powers, both physical and mental, giving him the leisure necessary for the 
writing of verses and satires. These he considered as recreation, a pleasant relief after 
the fatigues and excitement of Whitehall; in no sense was he a journeyman of letters, 
nothing being more inimical to him than the “ Grub Street pens ” or the swarms 
of heroical and anti-heroical poetasters whose scribblings strewed the London book- 
stalls. Accordingly he was at no pains to collect his manuscripts for publication or even 
to prevent them from being altered as they circulated among his acquaintance. This 
prolonged annual rustication was a disappointment to his friends, who found life 
insipid without the salt of his lordship’s wit and invention. 44 Your friends in town,” 
writes Dryden, 44 are ready to envy the leisure you have given your selfe in the 
country, though they know you are only their steward, and that you treasure up 
but so much health as you intend to spend on them in the winter.” In the country, 
however, he was content to remain, enlivening his sojourn there with feasts and 
country dances, sometimes practising his wit at the expense of the villagers. Two 
stories of him are still remembered, having survived some eight generations of those 
who once knew him— the tenant of Adderbury House in Oxfordshire. It is recorded 
that one day, disguised as a tinker, he walked to Burford, a neighbouring village, and 

° f "S”* d T^ ng 011 Rochester ’ s healtil is explained in a conver- 
I lt l ^ T h “ Giffard sa 7 * Lord had a natural distemper upon 

extraordinary, and he thinks might be one occasion of shortening his days, 
71 ’ A sometimes he f? uld not have a stool three weeks or a month together, 
which distemper his lordship told him was a very great occasion of that warmth and heat he 

t:':r P T! d ’ tlS » m D ne / bemg beated b}r the fumes and Amours that ascended and evacuated 
themselves that way.” Reliquxx Hearniana, November 16th 1711 

t Andrew Marvell. Aubrey’s Life of Marvell ’ 

t Miss Hobart to Miss Temple. M'emoires du Comte de Grammont. 

( xxvi ) 


asked the people for their pots and pans to mend. On receiving them, he knock* 
the bottoms out, whereupon he was put in the stocks. He then persuaded a man 
take a note from him to Lord Rochester at Adderbury; upon which his carriage ax 
four arrived, the stocks were dug up and he returned home. Shortly afterwards 1 
sent the people new pots and pans. On another occasion he disguised himself as 
tramp, and on meeting a vagabond asked him where he was going; he replied that 1 
was going to Lord Rochester’s — not that it was any use, for he never gave anythin 
Lord Rochester offered to accompany him. On reaching the house the vagabor 
went round to the back door, while Rochester gave his servants instructions to deta 
him and put him in a barrel of beer. Every time the tramp put his head up, Rochesfc 
threatened to “ bash him.” At length he was released, given a good meal and a ne 
suit of clothes, and told that he was never to say again that Lord Rochester gai 

In the late autumn he returned to London, alone for the most part, although h 
wife sometimes accompanied him. On October 5th, 1667, he was summoned to tl 
House of Lords. During the year there had been important political changes, tl 
ministry of Clarendon had fallen, and Charles’s foreign policy had arranged the peao 
treaty of Breda and the first of the disastrous secret treaties with Louis XIV, ti 
commencement of the period of F rench aggression. That Rochester was well instruct* 
in home and foreign affairs is clearly shown by the wide range of his political satires ; 3 : 
attended the sessions of the House of Lords, supplementing the information he receive 
there with a mixture of truth and gossip picked up on the Backstairs of Whitehall. Bi 
he never cared to take an active part, or soil his hands, in the irregular politics of h 
country; a kiss stolen from one of the King’s mistresses or an inappropriate lampoo 
was his nearest approach to upsetting the balance of affairs. The graces of his convei 
sation and looks, which would avail nothing in Parliament, were fatal when applie 
to women. Hamilton relates how the “ hermaphrodite ” Miss Hobart tried to tur 
the affections of Miss Temple away from Lord Rochester on to herself: “he i 
dangerous . . to such a degree that there is not a woman who gives ear to hir 
three times but she irretrievably loses her reputation.” Accordingly, the innocer 
Miss Temple was persuaded to turn her back to his lordship’s advances. When sh 
attempted to do so, Rochester only smiled, and being resolved that her resentmer 
should be still more remarked, he turned round, and posting himself face to face 
“ Madam,” said he, “ nothing can be so glorious as to look so charming as you dc 
after such a fatiguing day: to support a ride of three long hours, and Miss Hobai 
afterwards, without being tired, shows indeed a very strong constitution.” 

His conduct towards women was not so much a peculiarity of his own constitutio 
as a characteristic of an age in which men, like children who soon tire of one plaything, 
were not content with anything that had lost the charm of novelty, and soon abandon© 
a passion after its early bloom had ceased to call forth their admiration. You ar 

* These stories are taken from a short account of the village and its history. Adderbury 
by Henry Gepp. Banbury, 1924. 

j- “ Love, like other little Boys, 

Cries for Hearts, as they for Toys, 

Which, when gain’d, in childish play, 

Wantonly are thrown away.” 

( xxvii ) 


< 1 ^ 

stark Mad,” he writes to his mistress, 44 and therefore the fitter for me to love. 
As long her seeming madness, so long his love endures; but neither can outlast 
the other. The peril of uncertainty, the motto carpe diem , which is appropriate to the 
social life of the Restoration, belong to a state of mind that is familiar to-day. 
There is a new background of philosophy to the period in the misanthropic deism of 
Hobbes, and in Saint fivremond’s imported Epicureanism, a philosophy expressed in 
some of the swan-songs of the love poetry which had been one of the treasures of the 
Renaissance in England : 

44 Then talk not of Inconstancy 

False Hearts, and broken Vows; 

If I, by Miracle, can be 

This live-long Minute true to thee, 

’Tis all that Heav’n allows.”-)* 

Of Rochester it was written: 44 He was soon cloy’d with the Enjoyment of any one 
Woman, tho’ the fairest in the World, and forsook her.”:): This fate befell Mrs. 
Roberts, Mistress to the King, whom she abandoned for the possession of Rochester’s 
heart. But it was not in her power to hold his affections for long. He deserted her, 
and she was compelled to implore pardon of His Majesty, her hair dishevelled and on 
her knees, but was forgiven and afterwards restored to her former rank. At the end 
of the year 1668, Pepys 44 heard the silly discourse of the King, with his people about 
him, telling a story of my Lord Rochester’s having of his clothes stole while he was 
with a wench; and his gold all gone, but his clothes found afterwards stuffed into a 
featherbed by the wench that stole them.Ӥ 

The love, tinged with fear, that he inspired in women, was partly due to a know- 
ledge of his power over their sex. And since the frailty of their nature was emphasised 
in casual intrigues at Court, he was careful to arrange a ready escape from his passions, 
however involved. So that the affairs of the heart were kept within discreet limits, 
like those well-defined couplets that had already decided the requisite measure of 
emotion suitable to each period of verse. In dealing with men, Rochester failed to 
perceive that a different treatment was required. Of all the many companions of his 
adventures, Henry Savile was, perhaps, his only friend. 44 If there be a real good 
upon Earth,” he writes, cc ’tis in the Name of Friend, without which all others are 
meerely fantastical.” || But it was not in his nature to keep a friend for long, however 
much he was aware of the importance of friendship — a subject he returns to in most 
of his letters to Savile. 44 If it were the Sign of an honest Man to be happy in his 
Friends, sure I were mark’d out for the worst of Men; since no one e’er lost so many 
as I have done, or knew to make so few.”^[ For the sting of his satire, poisoned some- 
times by jealousy at another man’s success, wounded his best companions; on such 
occasions it is impossible to excuse his conduct. One of these was early in 1669, 

* Love-letter XXII. 

t Page 18. 

$ Saint lilvremond. Letter to the Duchess of Mazarine. 

§ December 3 rd, 1668. 

|| Letter to Henry Savile, p. 258. 

II Page 258. 

( xxviii ) 


■S ' ggggggg $ £ &= T == == == S» 

and much offended Pepys, who records it in his Dairy :* “The King dining yesterday 
at the Dutch Embassador’s, after dinner they drank and were pretty merry, and among 
the rest of the King’s Company there was that worthy fellow my Lord Rochester, 
and Tom Killigrew, whose mirth and revelry offended the former so much that he 
did give Tom Killigrew a box on the ear in the King’s presence :f which do give much 
offence to the people here at Court to see how cheap the King makes himself, and the 
more, for that the King hath not only passed by the thing and pardoned it to Rochester 
already, but this very morning the King did publickly walk up and down, and Rochester 
I saw with him as free as ever, to the King’s everlasting shame to have so idle a rogue 
as his companion.” But even the long-suffering King found offence in Lord Rochester’s 
satires on the royal mistresses, and from 1669 until the end of his life he was banished 
from Court at least once a year. He was in disgrace soon after the quarrel with 
Killigrew and went over to France during the King’s pleasure.^: Montague, the 
English ambassador, in a letter dated July 6th, mentions an assault made on Lord 
Rochester: “The King has put the people in prison that injured my Lord Candish 
and my Lord Rochester, and has expressed a great displeasure against them; and the 
least that will happen to them, they say, is losing their employments; but all their friends 
having spoke to me to speak for them to the King and my Lord Candish desiring it 
too, I spoke to his most Christian Majesty, and entreated him to forgive them, the 
English having had all the satisfaction that could be desired. He returned to me a 
great many expressions how sorry he was such a thing should happen to be done by 
his officers to any strangers, much more to the English and to people of that quality; 
so I believe after some few days they will be forgiven.Ӥ A further ambassadorial 
letter to Lord Arlington recommends Lord Rochester’s good qualities: “ The reasons 
of my Lord Rochester’s coming into France, I suppose, are not unknown to your 
Lordship; upon his return into England I believe there is nothing he is more desirous 
of than your Lordship’s favour and countenance; and if hereafter he continues to live 
as discreetly as he has done ever since he was here, he has other good qualities enough 
to deserve it, and to make himself acceptable wherever he comes. I have assured 
him that you are so just and so good-natured to everybody, that it will be his own 
fault if he does not always find a great deal of kindness and good usage from your 
Lordship.” | ) Whatever came of this introduction, we know that Arlington did not 
escape his lordship’s satire. 

On the 30th of August of this year his first child, Anne Wilmot, was christened. 
Though absent from his family for several months every year, he never allowed his 
preoccupation at Court to damp what was certainly the truest and most lasting 
affection of his life — the love of wife and children. A stronger passion could not have 
endured the vicissitudes of his temperament. As it was, it came nearer than anything 

* February 17th, 1669. 

j- A criminal offence, punishable by severe fines and sometimes by the loss of the offending 
hand or foot. 

$ “March 16th, 1668/9. On Tuesday night (nth) there was a quarrel between the 
Duke of Richmond and Mr. James Hamilton, after they had well dined at the Tower with 
Sir Henry Savile. . . . The Earl of Rochester was one of the party, who, upon his disgrace 
at Court, intends to go to France for sometime.” Fleming MSS., Rydal Hall. 

§ Buccleugh and Queensbury MSS., Montagu House, July 6th, 1669. 

|| Ibid., July 15th, 1669. 

( xxix ) 


to a solution of the tangled problem of his existence, a relief after the inconstancies of 
Court, the shadow of a great rock in a weary land. This bond of sympathy was 
rarely shaken by the outbursts of ill-feeling which destroyed the happiness of his 
other attachments and brought upon him the reproach of infidelity. The country was, 
in fact, an antidote to the ills of London, the calm of its landscapes instilled itself into 
the hearts of those who dwelt there. Patience and the pleasures of content were the 
gifts it bestowed on Lady Rochester, so that even when her husband was absent from 
her, her affection for him did npt depart, while his ungenerous behaviour was generously 
tolerated. “ If I could have been troubled,” she writes on one occasion, “ at any- 
thing when I had the happiness of receiving a letter from you, I should be so because 
you did not name a time when I might hope to see you, the uncertainty of which 
very much afflicts me. Whether this odd kind of proceeding be to try my patience 
or obedience I cannot guess, but I will never faile of either where my duty to you 
requires them.”* Like chains these firm qualities held his affections when they were 
in danger of drifting, and drew him again to her side. In a moment of fatigue he com- 
plains to her: “ I have no news for you, but that London grows very tiresome, and I 
long to see you; but things are now reduced to that Extremity on all Sides, that a 
Man dares not turn his Back for fear of being Hanged.”f So far he was not tempted 
to turn his back, for neither age nor ill-health had yet dimmed his extraordinary 
vitality, while the buoyancy of spirits, which bore him safely through the subterfuges 
and perfidies of his neighbours, expressed itself in satire, not in the want of enthusiasm 
or spirit of disgust that embittered the last months of his life. Moreover, at this time 
he was beginning to interest himself in the drama, of which he was soon to be one 
of the most powerful patrons. The first dramatist to whom he began to pay attention 
was John Dryden, who dedicated to him three years later (1673) his Marriage a la 
Mode . The cringing tone of the dedication demonstrates the effectiveness of Roches- 
ter’s dominion more than the servility of the author. “ I am sure,” he writes, “ if 
there be anything in this play, wherein I have raised myself above the ordinary lowness 
of my comedies, I ought wholly to acknowledge it to the favour of being admitted 
into your lordship’s conversation. . . . And not only I, who pretend not to this way, 
but the best comic writers of our age, will join with me to acknowledge that they 
have copied the gallantries of courts, the delicacy of expression, and the decencies of 
behaviour, from your lordship, with more success, than if they had taken their models 
from the court of France.” Before long, however, Lord Rochester grew jealous of 
Dryden’s success, and quarrelling with his patron Sheffield, Duke of Mulgrave, began 
openly to disparage his plays. To qualify his spite he patronised Dryden’s feeble 
rivals Elkanah Settle and John Crowne. For the Court performance of Settle’s 
Empress of Morocco in 1671 he composed a prologue^: which he is said to have recited, 
and some four years later, Crowne, in preference to Dryden, was ordered to compose 
a Masque for the Theatre Royal: The Masque of Calisto was written and produced 
under Rochester’s supervision early in 1675. In the same year it was printed with 
a title-page that recalls the splendour and success of the performance: “ Calisto, or 
The Chaste Nimph — the late Masque at Court, as it was frequently Presented there, 
by several Persons of Great Quality. . . .” Dryden, in order to regain his lordship’s 

* Harleian MSS. 7003, British Museum. f Letter LXIIL page 28c 

$ Page 54. r6 

( xxx ) 


,g " ! "" ' — §&£=--- -■ ■■■ ■" 1 ■■ 

favour, wrote an epilogue which Rochester refused to accept. One wonders if Dryden, 
in those overclouded times when his reputation was governed by the whimsies of a 
young nobleman, recalled a sentence from an early dedication :* 44 . . . That, which 
I admire is, that being so absolute a courtier, you have not forgot either the ties of 
friendship, or the practice of generosity,” words that were to lose their meaning 
altogether when, some years after, he was actually assaulted at Rochester’s instigation. 

Even at this period the unpleasantness of Rochester’s behaviour was sufficiently 
remarked. For Dryden was supported from another side by Sheffield, Duke of Mul- 
grave, a bitter enemy of Rochester. 44 I was informed,” writes Mulgrave in his 
memoirs, f that the Earl of Rochester had said something of me, which, according to 
his custom, was very malicious. I therefore sent Colonel Aston, :j: a very mettled 
friend of mine, to call him to account for it. In the morning we met the Lord 
Rochester at the place appointed, who, instead of James Porter whom he assured 
Aston he would make his Second, brought an errant Lifeguardsman, whom nobody 
knew. To this Mr. Aston took exception upon the account of his being no suitable 
adversary} especially considering how extremely well he was mounted, whereas we 
had only a couple of packs : upon which we all agreed to fight on foot. Lord Rochester 
refused to dismount. 44 I took the liberty,” continues Mulgrave, 44 of representing 
what a ridiculous story it would make if we returned without fighting; and therefore 
advised him for both our sakes, especially for his own, to consider better of it, since 
I must be obliged in my own defence to lay the fault on him by telling the truth of the 
matter. His answer was that he submitted to it . . . [this] intirely ruined his 
reputation as to courage (of which I was really sorry to be the occasion) tho’ nobody 
had still a greater as to wit; which supported him pretty well in the world, notwith- 
standing some more accidents of the same kind, that never fail to succeed one another 
when once people know a man’s weakness.” The reputation for bravery that Rochester 
had won at Bergen and in the Channel was much damaged by the report of this 
ridiculous duel in which it appears that Mulgrave was prettily fooled at the expense 
of 44 a very profane wit.”§ Rochester’s refusal to fight except on horseback was owing 
to a distemper which prevented him from fighting on foot, while the substitution of 
a well-armed Lifeguardsman seems to have been made more in joke than in self- 
defence. || For he was as careless of what others thought as his enemies were careful; 
so that whereas he was content to accept the reproach of cowardice, Lord Mulgrave 
was anxious to clear himself of the calumny. The fulfilment of a passing whim at 
any expense, his refusal on this occasion to fight except on horseback, on other 
occasions, the smashing of valuable scientific instruments, the brawl in the Epsom 
tavern, the incident on the Newmarket road, show that he did not trouble himself 
with the consequences of his actions. A coward is unusually careful of what he does. 
Indeed, he was no more a coward than Falstaff, that “merry fat gentleman” for 

* Of Marriage a la Mode . 

f Buckingham’s Works , 1723, 2 vols. Mulgrave became later Duke of Buckingham ; it 
is important to distinguish him from George Villiers, who had the same title. 

^ Aston is mentioned in some of the lighter poems of the period. 

§ Evelyn at dinner at Windsor in 1670 when he met the Earl of Rochester. 

|| That Rochester was given to duelling is shown by a memorandum among the Fleming 
MSS. at Rydal Hall : 44 March 25th, 1673. A duel between the Earl of Rochester and Lord 
Dunbar has been prevented by the timely intervention of the Earl Marshall.” 

( xxxi ) 


whom he had an especial admiration, in spite of those other sins of ingratitude, pride 
and jealousy which lost him many friends and prompted him in his unworthy treat- 
ment of the dramatists he had once supported. But his enemies, isolating from its 
context in a long poem a single line of verse, * made it serve as a summary of the 
character of the man they feared. So Sir Carr Scrope in his Defence of Satire : 

“ He that can rail at one he calls his Friend, 

Or hear him absent wrong’d and not defend; 

Who for the sake of some ill-natur’d Jest, 

Tells what he should conceal, invents the rest; 

To fatal Midnight quarrels can betray 
His brave Companion, and then run away; 

Leaving him to be murder’d in the street 
Then put it off with some Buffoon conceit, 

This, this is he, you should beware of all. 

Yet him a pleasant witty Man you call, 

To whet your dull Debauches up and down 
You seek him as top Fiddler of the Town.” 

From Mulgrave, also in an Essay on Satire , comes equally violent abuse: 

“ Mean in each Action, lewd in ev’ry limb, 

Manners themselves are mischievous in him. 

For (there’s the Folly that’s still mixt with Fear), 

Cowards more Blows than any Hero bear. 

Of fighting Sparks some may her Pleasures say, 

But ’tis a bolder thing to run away. . . 

Evidence for Rochester’s cowardice was sought again in an adventure to which he 
was party, at Epsom on July 22nd, 1676. 66 The Lord Rochester doth abscond,” 
writes Charles Hatton, “ and soe doth Etheridge and Captain Burgess who occasioned 
the riot Sunday sennight. They were tossing some fiddlers in a blanket for refusing 
to play, and a barber, upon the noise, going to see what the matter, they seized upon 
him, and, to free himself from them, he offered to carry them to the handsomest 
woman in Epsom, and directed them to the constable’s house, who, demanding what 
they came for, they told him a whore, and, he refusing to let them in, they broke 
open his doores and broke his head, and beate him very severely. At last, he made 
his escape, called his watch, and Etheridge made a submissive oration to them, and 
soe far appeased them that the constable dismissed his watch. But presently after, the 
Lord Rochester drew upon the constable. Mr. Downes, to prevent his pass, seized 
on him, the constable cryed out murther, and, the watch returning, one came behind 
Mr. Downes and with a sprittle staff cleft his skull. The Lord Rochester and the 
rest run away, and Downes, having noe sword, snatched up a sticke and striking at 
them, they run him into the side with a half pike, and soe bruised his arme that he 
were never able to stirr after.”f Evidently there was no lack of courage, only an 
absence of caution and co-ordination in minds heated with overmuch drinking, a habit 

* “ For all men would be Cowards if they durst.” Satire on Man . 
t Hatton Correspondence. June 29th, 1676. 

( xxxii ) 


that led him into the wildest adventures in the middle period of his life, and “made 
him so extravagantly pleasant that ... for five years together he was continually drunk.”* 
Three years before the scuffle at Epsom, Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, had been 
his companion in another of these daring escapades. To understand it we look 
back some four years. The year 1672 was not eventful; Rochester had passed the 
summer with his lady on his estate at Enmore.f Earlier in the year there had been 
balls at Court, and on June the 1 7th a “ great dinner for Lady Mary Bertie’s brother ” 
at Adderbury with “ sixteen dances after Supper and dancing all over the garden 
because of the hot weather.”:): In October Lord Rochester was made deputy- 
lieutenant for Somersetshire.^ His interests, at this time, were with his own domestic 
affairs, and, at Court, with the production of plays and the patronage of the drama. 
In the following year, however, he was banished for a libel on the King.|| On this 
occasion Rochester’s exile was occupied with an affair that was to prove more fruitful 
in its results than any of his former adventures, one that conferred on his age a benefit 
outlived by his verses alone, that was remembered long after he was dead by men 
who knew him only by hearsay. 

His enthusiasm for the stage was then at its zenith. Dryden had been displaced 
by Crowne and Settle, and they, too, were to fall from his lordship’s favour to make 
way for Lee and Otway. But the whims and fancies of his patronage were sup- 
ported by a far more permanent interest. At Court he had made the acquaintance 
of a young waiting-woman, Elizabeth Barry, a girl of ancient family and of good estate, 
whose fortune had been damaged by the attachment of her father to Charles I. At 
one time she may have been in the service of Lady Shelton of Norfolk,** or it was 
suggested that she was fortunate to be taken under the patronage of the Lady Davenant.ff 
Lord Rochester had noticed her at Court and, impressed with her vitality, had the idea 
of training her as an actress.^ The unusual pains he took with her, and constancy of 
purpose that seemed to dispel any idea of failure, were extraordinary in a man whose 

* Burnet : Life . A remark to be read more for its humour than for its accuracy, 
f Cf. Rutland MSS., II, 26. ^ Ibid, 

§ State Papers, Domestic, October 30th, 1672. 

|| Probably the “ Satire which the King took out of his Pocket,” page 91, and not the 
“ History of Insipids,” for which he was banished in 1675. 

If Thomas Otway dedicated to the Earl of Rochester Titus and Berenice . Nathaniel Lee 
dedicated to him his tragedy of Nero, 

** Tony Aston. Supplement to Cibber’s Apology, 

ft Edmund Curll : History of the Stage, Both accounts may be true. 

Some confusion has been caused by Grammont, whose Memoirs record the early days 
of this attachment. He mentions Rochester’s use, as a confidante, of a girl named Sarah who 
lived with her aunt in the lodgings of Miss Temple. Cunningham (Chronology of Grammont, 
prefixed to Life of Nell Gwyn , 1852) suggests that this is Sarah Cook, the actress. But the 
chronology and accuracy of Grammont are most unreliable, and I do not think there is any 
doubt that the remark : “ he carried the governess down with him to his country seat, and 
exerted all his endeavours to cultivate in her niece some dispositions which she had for the stage,” 
is a reference to Elizabeth Barry. She died in 17 1 x, according to the inscription over her tomb, 
at the age of fifty-five. The year of her birth is supposed to have been 1654, so that she was 
nineteen years old at her first appearance on the stage. She was Rochester’s mistress, and bore 
him a daughter who lived to the age of thirteen and was provided for in the nobleman’s will. 
See Rochester’s love-letters to Mrs. Barry, pages 267 to 280 of this edition. 
c ( xxxiii ) 


« =*££ = = = — 

whom he had an especial admiration, in spite of those other sins of ingratitude, pride 
and jealousy which lost him many friends and prompted him in his unworthy treat- 
ment of the dramatists he had once supported. But his enemies, isolating from its 
context in a long poem a single line of verse,* made it serve as a summary of the 
character of the man they feared. So Sir Carr Scrope in his Defence of Satire'. 

“ He that can rail at one he calls his Friend, 

Or hear him absent wrong’d and not defend; 

Who for the sake of some ill-natur’d Jest, 

Tells what he should conceal, invents the rest; 

To fatal Midnight quarrels can betray 
His brave Companion, and then run away; 

Leaving him to be murder’d in the street 
Then put it off with some Buffoon conceit, 

This, this is he, you should beware of all, 

Yet him a pleasant witty Man you call, 

To whet your dull Debauches up and down 
You seek him as top Fiddler of the Town.” 

From Mulgrave, also in an Essay on Satire , comes equally violent abuse: 

“ Mean in each Action, lewd in ev’ry limb, 

Manners themselves are mischievous in him. 

For (there’s the Folly that’s still mixt with Fear), 

Cowards more Blows than any Hero bear. 

Of fighting Sparks some may her Pleasures say, 

But ’tis a bolder thing to run away. . . 

Evidence for Rochester’s cowardice was sought again in an adventure to which he 
was party, at Epsom on July 22nd, 1676. “ The Lord Rochester doth abscond,” 
writes Charles Hatton, “ and soe doth Etheridge and Captain Burgess who occasioned 
the riot Sunday sennight. They were tossing some fiddlers in a blanket for refusing 
to play, and a barber, upon the noise, going to see what the matter, they seized upon 
him, and, to free himself from them, he offered to carry them to the handsomest 
woman in Epsom, and directed them to the constable’s house, who, demanding what 
they came for, they told him a whore, and, he refusing to let them in, they broke 
open his doores and broke his head, and beate him very severely. At last, he made 
his escape, called his watch, and Etheridge made a submissive oration to them, and 
soe far appeased them that the constable dismissed his watch. But presently after, the 
Lord Rochester drew upon the constable. Mr. Downes, to prevent his pass, seized 
on him, the constable cryed out murther, and, the watch returning, one came behind 
Mr. Downes and with a sprittle staff cleft his skull. The Lord Rochester and the 
rest run away, and Downes, having noe sword, snatched up a sticke and striking at 
them, they run him into the side with a half pike, and soe bruised his arme that he 
were never able to stirr after.”f Evidently there was no lack of courage, only an 
absence of caution and co-ordination in minds heated with overmuch drinking, a habit 

* “For all men would be Cowards if they durst.” Satire on Man. 
t Hatton Correspondence. June 29th, 1676. 

( xxxii ) 


= S S ?~ ' a- 

that led him into the wildest adventures in the middle period of his life, and “made 
him so extravagantly pleasant that ... for five years together he was continually drunk.”* 

Three years before the scuffle at Epsom, Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, had been 
his companion in another of these daring escapades. To understand it we look 
back some four years. The year 1672 was not eventful; Rochester had passed the 
summer with his lady on his estate at Enmore.f Earlier in the year there had been 
balls at Court, and on June the 1 7th a “ great dinner for Lady Mary Bertie’s brother ” 
at Adderbury with “sixteen dances after Supper and dancing all over the garden 
because of the hot weather.’’^: In October Lord Rochester was made deputy- 
lieutenant for Somersetshire^ His interests, at this time, were with his own domestic 
affairs, and, at Court, with the production of plays and the patronage of the drama. 
In the following year, however, he was banished for a libel on the King.|| On this 
occasion Rochester’s exile was occupied with an affair that was to prove more fruitful 
in its results than any of his former adventures, one that conferred on his age a benefit 
outlived by his verses alone, that was remembered long after he was dead by men 
who knew him only by hearsay. 

His enthusiasm for the stage was then at its zenith. Dryden had been displaced 
by Crowne and Settle, and they, too, were to fall from his lordship’s favour to make 
way for Lee and Otway. *[f But the whims and fancies of his patronage were sup- 
ported by a far more permanent interest. At Court he had made the acquaintance 
of a young waiting-woman, Elizabeth Barry, a girl of ancient family and of good estate, 
whose fortune had been damaged by the attachment of her father to Charles I. At 
one time she may have been in the service of Lady Shelton of Norfolk,** or it was 
suggested that she was fortunate to be taken under the patronage of the Lady Davenant.ft 
Lord Rochester had noticed her at Court and, impressed with her vitality, had the idea 
of training her as an actress 4 i: The unusual pains he took with her, and constancy of 
purpose that seemed to dispel any idea of failure, were extraordinary in a man whose 

* Burnet : Life. A remark to be read more for its humour than for its accuracy. 

f Cf. Rutland MSS., II, 26. % Ibid. 

§ State Papers, Domestic, October 30th, 1672. 

|| Probably the “ Satire which the King took out of his Pocket,” page 91, and not the 
“ History of Insipids,” for which he was banished in 1675. 

Thomas Otway dedicated to the Earl of Rochester Titus and Berenice. Nathaniel Lee 
dedicated to him his tragedy of Nero. 

** Tony Aston. Supplement to Cibber’s Apology. 

ft Edmund Curll : History of the Stage. Both accounts may be true. 

44 Some confusion has been caused by Grammont, whose Memoirs record the early days 
of this attachment. He mentions Rochester’s use, as a confidante, of a girl named Sarah who 
lived with her aunt in the lodgings of Miss Temple. Cunningham (Chronology of Grammont, 
prefixed to Life of Nell Gwyn , 1852) suggests that this is Sarah Cook, the actress. But the 
chronology and accuracy of Grammont are most unreliable, and I do not think there is any 
doubt that the remark : “ he carried the governess down with him to his country seat, and 
exerted all his endeavours to cultivate in her niece some dispositions which she had for the stage,” 
is a reference to Elizabeth Barry. She died in 171 1, according to the inscription over her tomb, 
at the age of fifty-five. The year of her birth is supposed to have been 1654, so that she was 
nineteen years oid at her first appearance on the stage. She was Rochester’s mistress, and bore 
him a daughter who lived to the age of thirteen and was provided for in the nobleman’s will. 
See Rochester’s love-letters to Mrs. Barry, pages 267 to 280 of this edition. 
c ( xxxiii ) 


■ Cl = & = = ”" s ’ 

interests were notoriously transient. His enthusiasm did not waver when her debut 
in the King’s Company was considered hopeless, since she had no ear for verse, a thin 
voice and but few gestures.* Whether he knew that she was destined one day to 
become one of the greatest tragediennes of the English stage is a question that cannot 
even be conjectured, but, confident in the possibility, “ he made her rehearse, says 
Betterton, the actor, “ near thirty times on the stage and about twelve in the dress 
she was to act in.” Her reputation was established in the part of Monimia,t and from 
her performance in this character, in that of Belvidera,^; and of Isabella, § she acquired, 
according to Downes, the name of “the famous Mrs. Barry. Dryden praises her 
in his preface to CleomeneSy in which she played Cassandra 5 Mrs. Barry, . he writes, 
“ always excellent, has in this tragedy excelled herself, and gained a reputation beyond 
any woman I have ever seen on the stage.” And Colley Cibber, writing many years 
after, remembers that “ Mrs. Barry in Characters of Greatness had a presence of 
elevated dignity; her mien and motion superb and gracefully majestic; her voice full, 
dear and strong; so that no violence of passion could be too much for her; and when 
distress or tenderness possessed her, she subsided into the most affecting melody and 
softness. In the art of exciting Pity she had a power beyond all actresses I have yet 
seen, or what your imagination can conceive. ”|| 

At the beginning of the next year (1674) royal favour announced the grant to the 
Earl of Rochester of the rangership of Woodstock Park in Oxfordshire.^ The 
keepership was presented to him on May the 2nd of the same year,** and thenceforward 
his home was the Ranger’s Lodge on the edge of the Park.ft 

Since the honour thus conferred was a sinecure, it did not imply rustication 
or even occasional residence at the Ranger’s Lodge. For the next five years he is 

* She was actually dismissed, but Rochester is said to have taken a considerable wager that 
after six months she would be a finished actress, 
f Otway’s Orphan . 

4 Otway’s Venice Preserv'd . 

§ Southerner The Fatal Marriage . 

|| Colley Cibber : Apology for His Life . 

State Papers, Domestic, February 27th, 1674. Warrant for revocation of a grant made 
2nd November, 1670, to Lord Lovelace of the office of Keeper of Woodstock Park, in so far as 
concerns the rangership, and for a grant to John, Earl of Rochester, of the said rangership and 
of the walk and lodge thereto belonging, lately held by Sir William Fleetwood, deceased. Since 
February 28th, 1668, Lord Rochester had been Keeper of the King’s Game in Co. Oxford* 
[Cf. Warrant Bk. 14 of the Sec. of State.] 

** Ibid. 

ft In 1 67 5 there is some discussion between the Earl of Rochester and the Earl and Countess 
of Lichfield regarding the patent granted for the Keepership of Woodstock, “ his Majesty having 
signed a warrant for a grant to Sir Walter St. John and three others of the office of Ranger 
of Woodstock Park, after the determination of the Earl of Rochester’s state.” (State Papers, 
Domestic, October 7th, 1675.) On October 29th Sir J. Williamson informs Lord Rochester 
that “ To-morrow being the day appointed by the Lord Keeper for hearing the matter . . . 
concerning Woodstock * . . the King commands me to signify to you that you take order 
that some person, whomsoever you shall choose, be there to hear it jointly with the Lord 
Keeper.” (Ibid. y Whitehall, Friday, October 29th, 1675.) There is no further reference to 
the dispute, which was settled presumably in the Earl of Rochester’s favour, since he continued 
to live at Woodstock in the capacity of Ranger until his death. 

( xxxiv ) 


more frequently at Court than in the country, indulging in those debauches which 
finally ruined his health and made the last months of his life unendurable. During 
the year 1675 we catch glimpses of him in unusual and various situations. The 
Court performance of Settle’s Masque of Calisto , which has already been mentioned, 
took place early in the year at the same period, possibly, as the adventure, related by 
Grammont in his memoirs, which befell Miss Hobart and Miss Temple in the Park 
at the hands of Rochester and his companion, Killigrew. On April 30th a further 
honour was conferred on the Earl of Rochester, being “ a grant of the office of Master 
of the King’s Hawks during life.”* A less reputable event took place on the 25th 
of June when “ my Lord Rochester in a frolick after a rant . . . beat downe the 
dyill which stood in the middle of the Privie [[Gardjing, which was esteemed the 
rarest in Europ. . I doe not know,” writes one, “ if upon that accompt he will be found 
impertinent, or if it is by the fall beate in pieces.”f If he was found impertinent soon 
after and expelled from Court, it was for a different reason; a violent satire — The 
Restoration or The History of Insipids — a direct attack on the throne, came to the King’s 
notice and its author was punished accordingly. Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, 
being at that time in disgrace at Court, the ‘two noblemen left London together in 
search of adventure. Their inclinations led them along the Newmarket road, the 
scene of many royal progresses to the famous race-course, and after some time they 
reached a deserted inn which was to let. Lord Rochester’s talent for mimicry at 
once suggested a way of alleviating the discomforts of exile. Disguising themselves 
as innkeepers, they took possession of the inn, and, having carefully observed the 
pretty girls in the district (they considered not whether maids, wives or widows), 
with the object of seducing them, they invited the neighbours, who had either wives 
or daughters, to frequent feasts, where the men were plied hard with good liquor, 
and the women sufficiently warmed to make as little resistance as would be agreeable 
to their inclinations. But these elaborate entertainments could not last long without 
arousing suspicion among the guests; discretion, mingled with a desire for other 
amusement, persuaded their hosts to abandon this game, and, knowing that the King 
would shortly pay a visit to the races, they hastened to despatch an adventure which 
as yet they had been unable to compass. There was an old covetous miser in the 
neighbourhood, who, notwithstanding his age, was possessed of a very agreeable young 
wife. Her husband watched her with the same assiduity as his money, and never 
trusted her out of his sight, but under the protection of an old maiden sister, who 
had never tasted the joys of love herself. The Duke of Buckingham, having invited 
the husband to supper, Lord Rochester, disguised as a country wench, with a bottle 
of spirits under his arm (for he had heard that the old woman was addicted to them), 
arrived at the house. It was with some difficulty, however, that the governess was 
persuaded to speak with him, and then only with the outer door half closed. His 
lordship was compelled, therefore, to have recourse to an ingenious expedient. Simu- 
lating an attack of giddiness, he fell fainting on the threshold; the disturbance he made 
brought the young lady to the door, and she commanded him to be helped indoors, 

* State Papers, Domestic. An office that was shared by the notorious William Chiffinch. 

f Laing MSS., Edinburgh University, June 26th, 1675. George Scott of Pidochrie to 
lames Scott of Edinburgh. This accident recalls a similar occasion, mentioned by Aubrey, 
when the astronomical balls of the palace were smashed up by Rochester and Sedley during a 
“ rant.” 

( XXXV ) 


having regard to his sex and the unhappy condition he was in. By degrees he began to 
revive, and the old dame was persuaded to taste the cordial that had hastened his 
recovery. Unobserved by her, he drew from his pocket another bottle, qualified with 
opium, which he placed to her lips. While she lay heavily asleep, Lord Rochester 
discovered himself to the young wife, who was more delighted with his manners than 
startled by his intrusion, and readily yielded to his embraces. When the first transports 
were over, he arranged for the escape of the young adulteress, and about the middle 
of the night she set out with him for the inn, with a hundred and fifty pieces of her 
husband’s money concealed about her. In their flight they narrowly escaped falling 
into the enemy’s hands, but concealed in the grass and in each other’s arms, they waited 
till the cuckold was out of sight and hearing. The old miser on his return fell into 
a fit of madness, during which he hanged himself, and Lord Rochester, handing his 
treasure to his companion, was fortunate soon afterwards to meet the King, whose 
pardon was easily obtained.* * * § 

The Court at this time was entirely given over to pleasure, the King and his 
subjects packing every minute with masques and entertainments, fearful that an end 
might come to their revelries before they had taken their fill, and yet somehow content 
with the ecstasy of moments however brief. For these kinds of frivolity Lord 
Rochester had a capacity not exceeded by anyone at Whitehall, and the more than usual 
brilliance he gave to anything in which he took part was an excuse for recalling him 
from exile. 44 The King, it was said, loved his company for the diversion it afforded, ”f 
and the charm of his presence was shared by a chosen party of royal favourites, 4C Henry 
Killigrew 4 Henry Savile,§ Henry Guy,|| Baptist May,^j the Earl of Dorset, the Earl 
of Mulgrave . . . who were the King’s Companions at most suppers in the Week 
an: 1676,77, either in the lodgings of Lodovisa, Dutchess of Portsmouth,** * * §§ or in 
those of William Cheffing,tt near the Backstairs, or in the Apartments of Eleanor 
Quinn, or in that of Bapt: May,”§§ and, we may add, in Lord Rochester’s own 
apartment in the Palace. |||| Edmund Waller, for whom his lordship had an unqualified 
admiration, gives an entertaining account of one of these parties.^ 44 Grammont,” he 
writes, 44 once told Rochester that if he could by any means divest himself of one-half 
of his wit, the other half would make him the most agreeable man in the world. This 
observation of the Count’s did not strike me much when I heard it, but I have often 
marked the propriety of it since. Last night I supped at Lord R.’$ with a select party : 
on such occasions he is not ambitious of shining ; he is rather pleasant than arch 5 he 

* The substance of this story is taken from an account by Saint itvremond in a letter to the 
Duchess of Mazarine. 

f Burnet : History of His Own Times . 

i Groom of the Bedchamber. 

§ Rochester’s correspondent and formerly Groom of the Duke of York’s Bedchamber. 

|| Cupbearer to His Majesty. 

If Keeper of the Privy Purse. 

** Maitresse en titre. 

ft William Chifiinch, confidant of the King’s Amours. 

H Nell Gwyn. 

§§ Wood : Athena Oxoniensis . 

Illl Previously he had occupied the Arbor House in Portugal Row in Lincoln’s Inn Fields. 

1 fi[ a letter to St. Evremond. 

( xxxvi ) 


is comparatively reserved; but you find something in that restraint, which is more 
agreeable than the utmost exertion of talents in others. The reserve of Rochester 
gives you the idea of a copious river, that fills its channel, and seems as if it would 
easily overflow its banks, but is unwilling to spoil the beauty and verdure of the plain. 
The most perfect good-humour was supported through the whole evening; nor was 
it the^least disturbed when, unexpectedly, towards the end of it, the King came in. 

. . Something has vexed him,* said Rochester; 6 he never does me this honour, 
but when he is in an ill-humour.’ The following dialogue, or something very like 
it, then ensued : 

The King: How the devil have I got here ? The knaves have sold every cloak in 
the wardrobe. 

Rochester: Those knaves are fools. That is a part of dress, which, for their own 
sakes, your Majesty ought never to be without. 

The King: Pshaw ! — I’m vexed. 

Rochester: I hate still life — I’m glad of it. Your Majesty is never so entertaining 
as when 

The King: Ridiculous. I believe the English are the most untractable people on 

Rochester : I must humbly beg your Majesty’s pardon if I presume in that respect. 
The King: You would find them so, if you were in my place and obliged to govern. 
Rochester: Were I in your Majesty’s place I would not govern at all. 

The King: How then ? 

Rochester : I would send for my good Lord Rochester, and command him to govern.' 
The King: But the singular modesty of that nobleman 

Rochester: He would certainly conform himself to your Majesty’s bright example. 

How gloriously would the two grand social virtues flourish under his 

The King: O, prisca fides . What can these be ? 

Rochester: The Love of Wine and Women ! 

The King: God bless your Majesty l 

Rochester: These attachments keep the world in good humour, and therefore I say 
they are social virtues. Let the Bishop of Salisbury deny it if he can. 

The King: He died last night; have you a mind to succeed him ? 

Rochester : On condition that I shall neither be called upon to preach on the thirtieth 
of January, nor on the twenty-ninth of May.* 

The King: These conditions are curious. You object to the first, I suppose, because 

it would be a melancholy subject; but the other 

Rochester: Would be a melancholy subject too. 

The King: That is too much. 

Rochester : Nay, I only mean that the business would be a little too grave for the day. 

Nothing but the indulgence of the two grand social virtues could be a 
proper testimony of my joy upon that occasion. 

The King: Thou art the happiest fellow in my dominion. Let me perish if I do 
not envy thee thy impudence.” 

* Anniversaries of Charles I martyrdom and Charles II restoration. 

( xxxvii ) 



The 44 two grand social virtues ” were cultivated by the members of a club or 
society to which Rochester belonged. 44 The Bailers,” as they were called, seem to 
have been the wildest and most mischievous set of young men and women that have 
ever met together. Unfortunately the nature of their fellowship is not revealed, 
and all we know is that Pepys one day found himself in their company and was slightly 
perturbed at their behaviour,* and that, on another occasion, a consignment of 
“ leather instruments,” imported by Lord Rochester from France, was burnt at the 
request of the wives of the Customs officials, an action which so irritated one of its 
members that he wrote to Rochester, inviting him, as 46 General of the Bailers, to 
take revenge. f Wine and Women, however easily enjoyed, did not exclude that 
still lively interest he took in the stage. In 1675 Sir Francis Fane dedicated Love in 
the Dark to him, a compliment which was returned when Rochester himself wrote 
an epilogue for it, and in the same year Nathaniel Lee dedicated to him his Tragedy 
of Nero. Moreover, in the following year he was to be paid an even greater compli- 
ment and have the ingenious pleasure of seeing himself portrayed on the stage. Some 
years before this Rochester had taunted his friend, 44 the gentle George Etheredge,” 
with idleness. He had written : 

“ There’s none had more fancy, sense, judgment, and wit: 

But in th’ crying sin, idleness, he was so harden’d, 

That his long seven years silence was not to be pardon’d.”:): 

In 1676, therefore, to vindicate himself from this not unjust accusation, Etheredge 
produced his most attractive play, The Man of Mode , or Sir Fopling Flutter. But 
the title did not draw attention from what was after all the chief character, Dorimant, 
in whom were easily recognisable the graceful and peculiar qualities that made Lord 
Rochester one of the most agreeable men in the world. There is nothing unkind in 
this vivacious study of a man whom history, neglecting half the evidence at hand, 
has stamped a monster. If it is the tribute of a friend, it is none the less a true delinea- 
tion, and the appearance of Dorimant on the stage is, as it were, the sudden crystallisa- 
tion of those fluid qualities in Lord Rochester, that men had been unable to analyse 
in the past. While in the years to follow, when the legend of the last of the Stuarts 
begins to grow dim, this picture still remains unfaded. “ Now I remember very well,” 
writes one in the early years of the eighteenth century, § 44 that upon the first acting 

* Pepys. May 30th, 1668. <4 To supper in an arbor . . . and here I first understood 
the meaning of the company that lately were called Bailers ; Harris telling how it was by a 
meeting of some young blades, where he was among them, and my Lady Bennet (cf. Wycherley. 
Preface to The Plain Dealer) and her ladies ; and their there dancing naked, and all the roguish 
things in the world. But, Lord ! what loose cursed company was this, that I was in to-night, 
though full of wit, and worth a man’s being in for once, to know the nature of it, and their 
manner of talk, and lives.” 

t British Museum Add. MSS. 4162, January 26th, 1670. Letter from Henry Savile to 
Rochester. An Act of Parliament in 1672 forbade the importation of French goods. In a 
Miscellany of Poems, 1672, there is a poem entitled 44 The Bailer’s Life,” which, however, adds 
nothing to the little information already available. 

$ From A Trial of the Poets for the Bays, page 13 1. 

§ From A Defence of Sir Fopling Flutter. This is a reply to the attack made on the play 
by Steele in the Spectator, May 15th, 1711, where it is described as “a perfect contradiction 
to good manners, good sense, and common honesty.” 

( xxxviii ) 


, s , ; = = 5 == ' = — = g £ $= ===== = 11 = == I- .... 1 = 3 > 

of this Comedy, it was generally believed to be an agreeable Representation of the 
Persons of Condition of both Sexes, both in Court and Town; and that all the World 
was charm’d with Dorimant; and that it was unanimously agreed that he had in him 
several of the Qualities of Wilmot, Earl of Rochester, as, his Wit, his Spirit, his 
amorous Temper, the Charms that he had for the fair Sex, his Falsehood, and his 
Inconstancy; the agreeable Manner of his chiding his Servants*.. . . and lastly, 
his repeating on every Occasion, the Verses of Waller, for whom he had a very 
particular esteem. ... For Dorimant,” he concludes, 44 not only pass’d for a fine 
Gentleman with the Court of King Charles the Second, but he has pass’d for such with 
all the World, for Fifty Years together.” 

Death, that relieved this restless spirit of the follies and misunderstandings of human 
relationships, stayed, likewise, the violence of its satire. But in the heyday of Lord 
Rochester’s manhood, no one, either man or woman, was proof against his recurring 
fits of bitterness. 44 Our Journeymen, nowadays,” says the old shoemaker to Dorimant, 
44 instead of harmless Ballads, sing nothing but your damn’d Lampoons.” Damning, 
indeed, they were, but the condemnation was founded on fact (exaggerated, perhaps, 
since, he remarked rather comically , 44 Lies in . . . Libels came often in as Ornaments 
that could not be spared without spoiling the beauty of the Poem but never entirely 
on the imagination. He arranged, moreover, for a ready supply of scandal and impli- 
cation. It is said that 44 he found out a footman that knew all the Court and furnished 
him with a red coat and a musquet, as a sentinel, and kept him all the winter long, 
every night, at the doors of such ladies as he believed might be in intrigues. In the 
Court, a sentinel is little minded, and is believed to be posted by a captain of the guards 
to hinder a combat; so that this man walked about and visited at forbidden hours.”f 
Whether this spy ever overheard the King in the company of his mistresses is not 
recorded, but a libellous poemt on His Majesty that was written at this time admits 
the possibility. On its coming to the knowledge of the King, Lord Rochester was once 
more expelled from the Court. During his exile he amused himself in a manner more 
daring and perhaps more ingenious than any of his earlier adventures. He was a 
renowned mimic; 44 he would have gone about the streets as a beggar,” writes Burnet, 
44 and made love as a porter, Ӥ and on one occasion he dwelt in the City 44 among the 
capital tradesmen and rich merchants, where politeness was not so much cultivated 
as at Court, but where pleasure, luxury and abundance reigned with less confusion 
and more sincerity. . . . Ashe was able to adapt himself to all capacities and humours, || 
he soon deeply insinuated himself into the esteem of the substantial wealthy aldermen 

* “ The publick chiding of his servants, which would have been ill-breeding and intolerable 
in any other man, became not only civil and inoffensive, but agreable and entertaining in him.” 
Preface to Valentinian . 

j" Burnet: History of His Own Times. 

dj: Page 104. 

§ “ He took pleasure to disguise himself as a porter, or as a beggar, sometimes to follow 
some mean amours, which, for the variety of them, he affected. At other times, merely for 
diversion, he would go about in odd shapes ; in which he acted his part so naturally that even 
those who were in the secret, and saw him in these shapes, could perceive nothing by which 
he might be discovered.” — Burnet’s Life. 

|| 44 The strange facility he had to talk to all Capacities in their own Dialect, and make 
himself good Company to all kind of People at all times.” Preface to Valentinian. 

( xxxix ) 


. . he made one in all their feasts . . . and, whilst in the company of the husbands, 
he declaimed against the faults and mistakes of the Government, he joined their wives 
in railing against the profligacy of the Court ladies, and in inveighing against the King’s 
mistresses . . . after which, to out-do their murmurings, he said, that he wondered 
Whitehall was not yet consumed by fire from heaven, since such rakes as Rochester, 
Killigrew and Sidney were suffered there, who had the impudence to assert that all 
married men in the City were cuckolds, and all their wives painted. This conduct 
endeared him so much with the cits, and made him so welcome at their clubs, that 
at last he grew sick of their cramming and endless invitations.”* During his exile 
for the satire on the King and Nell Gwyn, disguised as a German astrologer, he set 
up his sign on Tower Hill, and drew up an advertisement of the many cures he could 
effect and the mysteries he performed.! For the preserving of youth and beauty he 
had secret remedies, so that in a short time many people were persuaded to visit the 
famous “Alexander Bendo”; ladies disguised as maids escaped from Court to hear 
his prognostications, while their own maids, recognised by the magician, were tempted 
to reveal to him the secrets of their mistresses’ chambers.:}: These confidences were 
excellent material for satire, so that he set out forthwith for Woodstock and spent the 
summer in retirement with his wife and family of a son and three daughters.^ 

The next year (1677), unmarked by any extraordinary event, is important for the 
change which, thenceforward, came over Rochester’s attitude to life. It did not come 
suddenly, it came almost unperceived, prompted not so much by a revolution in his 
own mind as by that of a whole generation and the spirit of the age in which he lived. 
England had never settled down after the excitement of the Restoration, and even her 
strongest intellects had hardly survived the bufferings of the new philosophy. In France 
Descartes had profoundly stirred the stagnant wells of mediaeval thought, and Hobbes 
had done the same thing on this side of the Channel, had even destroyed some of the 
older beliefs and prepared a place for Locke and his disciples. At the Restoration, 
the experience of the older generation was no longer of use to men who had to make 
a new set of values for every occasion in their lives. Like children, they were forced 
to find out everything for themselves, their attitude towards God, if they recognised 
one, towards their human relationships, whether private or public, towards life itself 
so far as they were able to understand it. At this period, moreover, there came that 
sudden and enlightened enthusiasm for scientific research, shared by the King and 
fostered by the Royal Society, under the stress of which the old order was yielding 
to the freshness and uncertainty of one as yet unformed. This unsettled state of mind, 
eager to experiment, was the source of so much discontent in the last quarter of the 
seventeenth century. And yet these inexperienced children were more advanced 
than their ancestors; they had thrown away most of their childish things, and become 
aware of a part of the significance of life, and of the unevenness of its surface more 
clearly than anyone before, although they still clung to the manners of their childhood. 

* Memoirs of Grammont . 

t Alexander Bendo’s Advertisment, page 155. 

t The story told by Hamilton of the visit of Miss Price and Miss Jennings to a German 
astrologer was earlier than this, though it is possible that Rochester was the quack to whom 
reference is made. 

§ Charles baptised January 2nd, 1671. Ann e baptised August 30th, 1660. 
baptised July 13th, 1674. Mallet baptised January 6th, 1675. 

(xl) ' •' 



The emptiness of this behaviour, that had carried Lord Rochester through many 
hazards and grotesque adventures, slowly revealed itself to him. But it was not fully 
shown until he had passed through a great sickness which befell him in the year 1678. 
Before this we catch a, few last glimpses of him in such situations as had enlivened his 
early manhood. He is constantly in the company of Buckingham, * * * § in London and 
at Woodstock; his patronage of the stage has not declined, and he honours Charles 
D’Avenant with an epilogue to his Dirce , and is honoured by the dedication of Otway’s 
Titus and Berenice ; and once more he is involved in a scandal, which he repudiates, 
however. This was in September; Robert Harley in a letterf to his father mentions 
“ a beastly prank of my Lord Rochester and my Lord Lovelace and ten other men, 
which they committed on that Sabbath day when they were at Estington, which was 
their running along Woodstock Park naked.” As a young man Rochester would 
not have troubled to contradict this story; now he is tired of scandal, sick in mind as 
in body and to Savile who had written : “ I desire to know the truth from yourselfe,^: 
who alone doe speak true concerning yourselfe, all the rest of the world not being 
only apt to believe but very ready to make lyes concerning you, and if your friends 
were like them, there has been such a story made concerning your last adventure as 
would persuade us grave men that you had stripped yourself of all your prudence as 
well as your breeches . . he replies :|| “ for the hideous Deportment, which you 
have heard of, concerning running naked, so much is true, that we went into the River 
somewhat late in the year, and had a frisk for forty yards in the Meadow, to dry 
ourselves.” An unwillingness to allow his behaviour to pass without explanation is 
an indication of the more serious views he had begun to adopt; not that he repented 
of his former ways; only because he had exhausted them did he begin to interest himself 
more in his private affairs and in the government of his country. In November he 
was elected alderman for Taunton,** and in the spring he had petitioned for a nine 

* Harleian MSS. 7003, British Museum. Buckingham to Rochester: “August nth, 

1 677. My noble friends at Court have now resolved to lye most abominably of your Lordship 
and me, in order to which they have brought in a new Treasonable Lampoon of which your 
Lordship is to be the Author.” 

Fortland MSS.: “August 17th, 1677. The D. of Buckingham petitioned . . . that he 
had laid so long, had contracted several indispositions, and desired a month’s air. This was by 
Nelly, Middlesex, Rochester and the merry gang easily procured. . . . Hereupon he laid con- 
stantly in Whitehall at my Lord Rochester’s lodgings leading his usual life.” 

Rydal Hall MSS. : “November ;th, 1 677. The Duke of Buckingham, who is steward 
for the City of Oxford, and has been at Woodstock with the Earl of Rochester and other nobles, 
this fortnight, is expected at Oxford this week.” 

t Portland MSS., Welbeck Abbey, September nth, 1677. 

$ i.e. about his illness. In the autumn of 1677 his health broke down for the first time. 

§ Harleian MSS. 7003, British Museum. [| Letter III, page 252, in reply to Savile. 

“ . . . a considerable time before his last Sickness, his Wit began to take a more serious 
Bent, and to frame and fashion itself to publick business ; he began to inform himself of the 
Wisdom of our Laws . . . and to speak in the House of Peers with general approbation. . . .” 
Preface to Valentinian . [See also Buckingham’s Works, where a speech of Lord Rochester’s 
is recorded, and The Lord’s Journal.] 

** Portland MSS. Letter from Andrew Marvell to Sir Edward Harley, November 17th, 

1 677. He had been Deputy-Lieutenant for Somerset since October 30th, 1670. [Cf. Mil. 
Bk. Sec. of State.] 

c* ( xli ) 



«— - 

hundred years’ lease of some property he owned in Ireland.* In the House of Lords, 
moreover, he had sat regularly until his health broke down, at which time he returned 
to the study of the ancient authors whom he had loved as a boy and devoted many 
hours to their perusal. 

We have now entered the last stages in Lord Rochester’s life. Henceforward the 
letters that he wrote to Henry Savile are the only source of information we can rely 
upon.f The fever he had contracted’ in the autumn of 167 7 completely destroyed 
his remarkable constitution, leaving his body feeble and his mind depressed. In April 
we learn that he 44 hath bin att the gates of death, and so penitent that he is upon an 
emendment, and says he will be an exsample of penitence to the whole world. . . 

A shadow of loneliness darkens the last eighteen months of his life, for Savile, his 
best friend, had gone on a mission to France, and his own prolonged absence in the 
country had isolated him from his acquaintance at Court. Even there, the will to 
enjoy was far less strong; the political skeleton had broken from its cupboard; the 
misgovernment of the Cabal ministry, the quarrels between the King and his brother 
York and the bastard Duke of Monmouth, as well as the peril of papists made pleasure 
a weariness of the flesh, so that even an amorous intrigue might become the overture 
to a political scandal. Yet Rochester’s spirit was not utterly broken. 44 It is a 
miraculous thing,” he writes to Savile, § 44 when a Man, half in the Grave, cannot leave 
off playing the Fool, and the Buffoon,” meaning that his old wit had not altogether 
deserted him. But the merriment of his correspondence with Savile is tinged with a 
stain of melancholy and ennui: “ The general Heads, under which this whole Island 
may be consider’d, are Spies, Beggars and Rebels, the Transpositions and Mixtures of 
these make an agreeable variety; Busie Fools, and Cautious Knaves are bred out of 
them, and set off wonderfully; tho’ of this latter sort we have fewer now than ever, 
Hypocrisie being the only vice in decay amongst us, few Men here dissemble their 
being Rascals; and no Woman disowns being a Whore . . .” || But the calm that 
was slowly coming over his mind was still broken by sudden storms of jealousy, a 
vice that had not been overcome by one who was neither a rascal nor a hypocrite. 
The end of his life is marred by a furious outburst against Dryden, whose successes he 
had always deprecated. A satire was brought to his notice, supposedly written by 
Dryden and his patron Lord Mulgrave,^ in which, however, Dryden had no share; 
certain references to Rochester’s cowardice in the past stung him to revenge. Ignorant 
in the fury of his passion of the author of the slander, he was glad of an occasion for 
pouring the vials of his anger upon the harmless Dryden: the repartee he left to 
“ Black Will with a Cudgell,”** and Dryden was brutally assaulted on his way home 
from Will’s Coffee House. ff There is nothing to redeem the folly and cruelty of 
Rochester’s behaviour on this occasion. 

* State Papers, Domestic, April 13th, 1677. f Pages 251 to 2 66 of this edition. 

t Rutland MSS. Lady Chaworth to her brother Lord Ross, April 23rd, 1678. She adds ; 
44 . . . and I hope he will be so.” 

§ Letter VIII, page 256. || Letter XV, page 263. 

H It contains likewise an attack on Rochester’s bawdy songs ; Robert Wolseley in his Preface 
to V alentinian vehemently repudiates it. ** Letter XVI, page 264. 

It The Duchess of Portsmouth is supposed to have been concerned in this incident. The 
London Gazette , 1 8th— 22nd December, 1679, has the following entry: u Whereas John 
Dryden esq. was on Monday the 1 8th instant, at night, barbarously assaulted, and wounded, 

( xlii ) 


‘ g "~" = ^= = ■■ -* =fr 

This is the last recorded action of a life that had been remarkable for the variety 
and extent of its experience. At last, but only when the burden of existence was weigh- 
ing upon him intolerably, death came and removed it for ever. But the period of 
Lord Rochester’s life which covered less than half the allotted days of man, was 
balanced by the long agony of his death which lasted a full year. In an interval of 
his suffering he wrote his moving Farewell to the Court ;* 

64 Tir’d with the noisome Follies of the Age, 

And weary of my part, I quit the Stage; 

For who in Life’s dull Farce a part would bear. 

Where Rogues, Whores, Bawds, all the head Actors are ? 

Long I with charitable Malice strove, 

Lashing the Court, those Vermin to remove . 

Y et though my life hath unsuccessful been, 

(For who can this Augaean Stable clean ?) 

My gen’rous end I will pursue in Death, 

And at Mankind rail with my parting Breath.” 

During this slight recovery, and in the hope of receiving some solid comfort from 
one who had spent much of his life inveighing — though in a different way — against 
the sins of the Age, he summoned Bishop Burnet to his bedside. 44 This was sometime 
in October, 1679, when he was slowly recovering out of a great Disease. . . . He was 
then entertaining himself in that low state of health, with the first part of the History 
of the Reformation f . . . with which he seemed not ill pleased. After I had waited 
on him once or twice,” Burnet writes, 44 he grew into that freedom with me, as to 
open to me all his thoughts, both of Religion and Morality: and to give me a full 
view of his past life.”:}: The record of these conversations is not only interesting in 
itself, but also for the extraordinary sensation it made, not only after Rochester’s 
death but for many years to come.§ For, according to them. Lord Rochester’s sub- 

in Rose Street, in Covent Garden, by divers men unknown ; if any person shall make discovery 
of the said offenders to the said Mr. Dryden, or to any Justice of the Peace, he shall not only 
receive fifty pounds, which is deposited in the hands of Mr. Blanchard, goldsmith, next door to 
Temple Bar, for the said purpose ; but if he be a principal or accessory, in the said fact, his 
Majesty is graciously pleased to promise him his pardon for the same.” 

* Page 147. t By Bishop Burnet. 

X Burnet’s Life of Rochester. A book 44 which the critic ought to read for its elegance, the 
philosopher for its arguments, and the saint for its piety.” Johnson’s 44 Life of Rochester ” in 
the Lives of the Poets . 

§ Burnet’s Life ran into many editions in the eighteenth century. During the reign of 
Queen Victoria it formed the basis of innumerable pamphlets issued by the Society for Pro- 
moting Christian Knowledge and the Religious Tract Society, e.g. 44 The Repentance and Happy 
Death of the Celebrated Earl of Rochester ” ; 44 The Contrast, or the Last Hours of . . . 
Voltaire and Wilmot Earl of Rochester.” The last edition of Burnet’s Life was in 1875, and 
from Lord Ronald Gower’s Preface these memorable lines are quoted : 44 There are Rochesters 
in the reign of Queen Victoria, not, however, gifted, as was the witty author of the 4 Satire 
against Man ’ . . . but whose lives resemble Wilmot’s in a course of selfish and wicked indul- 
gence, and who appear as reckless of the manner in which they pass their short span of existence 
as if there was no such certainty as death, and after death a Judgment in store for them. 

“ It is in hope that some of these persons, if they meet with and read this book may have 

( xliii ) 


mission to the old Bishop’s arguments led him to repent all his former courses, so that 
during his last hours he was a reformed character, praising God for His manifold 
mercies, and humbly praying for forgiveness. How far all this is true is a question 
which is answered with some difficulty after so long a lapse of time, but it may be 
presumed that in his enthusiasm for bringing the strayed lamb back to the fold, Burnet 
forgot to mention the difficulties he encountered on the way.* 44 As for his Repent- 
ance,” writes that charming sceptic St. ^vremond, 44 and these Arguments produc d 
by Doctor Burnet, I am apt to depend on his V eracity, notwithstanding some Reports 
to the contrary, tho’ asserted with the Boldness which only belongs to truth. For 
my Lord was a master of too much reason to be an Atheist, or when he came calmly 
to consider, not to be a Christian . . .”f There can be no doubt about the sincerity 
of Rochester’s determination to avoid, if he was spared, those excesses which had 
brought him to his low state of health. He loathed and detested them now, as a child, 
surfeited with sweetmeats, is nauseated with the idea of a further indulgence. 4 II 
n’a pas succombd,” writes a French critic, 44 debauch d, vulgaire, sous le poids abrutis- 
sant de Pivresse sous l’ecrasement des voluptes . . . un secret ressort . . . le fait 
reagir contre elles. II ne s’assimile pas le poison, il le vomit h la face des empoison- 
neurs.”^: Unluckily, some of the poison entered his system ; now that he was no longer 
strong enough to fight it down, he could only lie still under its tortures. 44 He was 
very much ashamed of his former practices, rather because he had made himself a 
beast, and had brought pain and sickness to his body, and had suffered much in his 
reputation, than from any deep sense of a Supreme Being, or another state.Ӥ This 
confession was made during one of the early conversations with Burnet, when his 
vitality had just sufficient strength to retaliate, and he could smile at the old priest’s 
44 canting and enthusiasm'” $ while even the longest arguments only forced him to 
44 acknowledge that the whole system of religion, if believed, was a greater foundation 
of quiet than any other thing whatsoever.” In the end, however, the heavy ecclesi- 
astical artillery triumphed, and the dying nobleman, un croyant desespere , refrained 
from argument, allowing Burnet to soothe his tired spirit with comfortable words 
and promises of forgiveness. It was the relief he obtained from the idea, more than 
from the actual dogma of religion, that gave him the patience to endure his suffering, 
an attitude which had expressed itself in saying : 44 they were happy that believed, for 
it was not in everyone’s power,” || and which seems to have directed his so-called 
repentance. Thus he was aware that the acceptance of the dogma of Christianity, 
the Communion of Saints, the Forgiveness of sins, the Resurrection of the body, and 
the Life everlasting was the path of least resistance for those who never questioned the 
infallibility of them. It was not in his power, however, to take this path, although 

their eyes opened to the reckless folly of leading what is called 4 a fast life,’ that I have had 
these pages reprinted.” 

* Burnet is described in one of the 44 Groaning Board ” pamphlets in the Roxburghe 
collections as 44 the rough Scot, so remarkable for disturbing the sick.” The editor of the 
Roxburghe Ballads observes that the Bishop’s desire to be in at the death of sinners was akin 
to the enthusiasm of the foxhunter ! 

f See Giffard’s account of an interview with his former pupil in Reliquiae Hearnianae , 
November 16th, 17 11. 

$ Forgues : Revue des Deux Monies , August, 1857. 

§ Burnet’s Life* || Burnet’s Life . 

( xliv ) 


Burnet deceived himself into believing that he worked a miracle by converting a 
notorious sinner. The change that had come over Rochester was physical, not 
spiritual; the throb of bodily suffering, not the beating of a contrite heart, weakened 
his defence. There is a sense of unreality in the meek epistles to Burnet and to Doctor 
Pierce that were written for him in the last hours of his decline. He is more truly 
pictured by his mother in her letters to his aunt. Never again did he wish to be 
reminded of the past; one day it was reported how the King had drunk to his health, 
but he turned away his head in disgust. His vitality was now fast sinking, and he had 
wasted some in a moment of rashness when, believing himself recovered, he had ridden 
down to Somersetshire in the early summer* He was carried back to Woodstock 
by coach and there attended by many eminent physicians and worthy divines, amongst 
whom were the Bishop of Oxford, Bishop Burnet and his mother’s chaplain, Mr. 
Parsons. His mind was calm, nor was he subject to the hectical fits that troubled him 
at the beginning of his illness. Maybe he was suffering from some form of slight 
mental aberration, induced by mercurial intoxication after a long course of treatment 
for venereal disease. Casanova, who had much in common with his lordship, suffered 
in the same way, having fits of piety from which he afterwards recovered. 44 This 
impure and invariably harmful metal,” he writes in his Memoires , 44 so weakened my 
mind that I was, as it were, stupefied by it.” Rochester told Burnet that 44 he had 
overcome all his Resentments to all the World; so that he bore ill will to no person, 
nor hated any upon personal accounts. . . . He said, he found his Mind now 
possessed with another sense of things, than ever he had formerly. He did not repine 
under all his Pain.”f This new 44 sense of things ” was what he had sought for all his 
life, but had always failed to find ; now that he had shut out the past, it came to him. 
The memory of his loves and friendships, Whitehall, the wealth of royal progresses 
through the Park and on the river, the adventures in the Mall, the excitement of 
Whetstone’s Park and the dreariness of Bridewell, the fascination of the drama, of wine 
and of lovely women, was blotted out; they were the experiences of a life, lived only 
from hour to hour, and left no record behind. One affection remained, and on his 
death-bed he called for his wife and children and greeted them with the kindness of a 
husband and the tenderness of a father. 44 He died,” writes Saint fivremond,t 44 on 
the 26th of July, at Two in the Morning, without any Pangs at all, Nature being 
spent, and the Food of Life quite gone, in the thirty-third year of his age.Ӥ 

* Early in the year he had been able to sit in Parliament, and accompany the King on a 
last visit to Newmarket, and Burnet is surprised at the extraordinary vitality that supported him 
when most men would have succumbed. 

t Burnet’s Life . + Letter to the Duchess of Mazarine. 

§ There is a curious passage in Lee’s Princess of Cleve which refers to Rochester and 
deserves to be quoted at length : 

Vidam of Chartres : 44 . . . He that was the Life, the Soul of Pleasure, Count Rosidore, is dead. 
Nemours : Then we may say, 

Wit was, and Satyr is a Carcass now. 

I thought his last Debauch would be his Death. 

But is it certain ? 

Vidam : Yes, I saw him Dust, 

I saw the mighty Thing a nothing made . . . etc. 

Nemours : ... He was the Spirit of Wit, and had such an art in guilding his failures 

( x lv ) 



“ Thus he lived, and thus he died,” concludes Burnet; “ Nature had fitted him for 
great things, and his Knowledge and Observation qualify’ d him to have been one of 
the most extraordinary Men, not only of his Nation, but of the Age he lived in. ...” 
Like a comet, he flashed across the stormy night of the seventeenth century, filling 
those who knew him with astonishment, leaving behind a memory that faded after 
many years. “ This blaze of reputation,” writes Dr. Johnson, nearly a century later, 
“is not yet quite extinguished; and his poetry still retains some splendour beyond 
that which genius has bestowed.” This added splendour is no longer discernible 
without a knowledge and appreciation of the Restoration and all it implied. For 
although in many ways he was born before his time, his poetry, with very few excep- 
tions, is of the age. Boileau he acknowledged as a master, and Cowley also, from 
both of whom he borrowed much and sometimes stole, for he was incurably lazy. 
There is strength in his plagiarism, a quality far removed from servile imitation, which 
might have given the world greater and more original poems had he used it with less 
economy and more care. But the skill and deliberation of a craftsman were in no 
wise expected of him, and in consequence the value of his work is lowered by flaws 
that might have been avoided, and our admiration decreases in proportion as our 
tempers are tried by his carelessness. His most perfect lyrics are not unworthy of Sir 
Edmund Gosse’s estimation of their writer — “ the last of the Cavalier lyrists, and in 
some ways the best,” in spite of the fact that he was not a Cavalier poet and that between 
him and Suckling there is only the same frail link that binds Suckling to the Eliza- 
bethan song writers. In the writing of pastorals, in imitating the Augustans, and in 
the peculiar fashion of adapting them, he stands not far beneath the most genial of 
his contemporaries, while “his true vein for satire,” less subtle than Dryden, less 
polished than Pope, is no less strongly marked;* although, after two and a half centuries 
to understand even faintly their original effectiveness, his satires need to be supported by 
a large understructure of notes. 

In his lifetime his nobility and personal qualities raised him above the level of pro- 
fessional writers: “he had a Strength of Expression,” says Saint fivremond, “and a 
Happiness of Thought peculiar to himself, and seems to me, of all the Moderns, to 
have come nearest the Ancients in Satire, scarce excepting Boileau. . . . His looser 
Songs and Pieces, too obscene for the Ladies’ Eyes, have their peculiar Beauties, and 
are indeed too dangerous to peruse; for what would have rendered them nauseous, if 
they had been writ by a Genius less powerful, in him, alarms the Fancy and raises the 
Blood and Appetite more than all the Medicaments of Cleopatra.”f Rochester’s 
name, even to-day, is almost a synonym for bawdry, an error that is hardly justified 
even after his work has been removed from that background of history without which 

that it was hard not to love his faults. He never spoke a witty thing twice, 
tho’ to different persons : his Imperfections were catching, and his Genius 
so Luxuriant, that he was forc’d to tame it with a Hesitation in his Speech. 

. . . But, oh ! how awkward, how insipid, how poor and utterly dull 
is the Imitation of these that have all the Affectation of his verse, and none 
of his Wit.” Act I, Scene 3 . 

claire ” Legouis et Cazamian : Histoire de la literature anglaise . 
t Saint Evremond. Letter to the Duchess of Mazarine. 

( xlvi ) 


' — l— = '" ■=> 

it cannot be completely understood.* Rochester is not a great poet, although at times 
there is a charm in his poetry so peculiar to him that it deserves recording; it is 
peculiar, also, to the age in which he lived, and admirably characteristic thereof. The 
pleasure to be derived from it is proportionate to our knowledge of the life at Court 
in Charles IPs reign. The reader must picture to himself the gaiety and emptiness 
of that life, the men and women who shared its frivolity and fatigue, and, above all, 
he must refer constantly to the character who gave to it so much vitality and criticized 
it so bitterly. 

Rochester’s character was composed of certain fixed and fluid qualities; some are 
exclusive to the age itself, the rest are entirely his own, formed out of the accumulated 
experience of the past. 66 As for his Lordship’s Temper, it was various, as he was 
more or less inspir’d with Wine. ... It is certain, that in his own natural Temper, 
that is, when he was himself, he was a good-natur’d Man, and had not that Alloy 
of Malice, which in many things he discover’d when it was perverted by a Debauch.”f 
Excessive drinking, which gave the rein to his passions, and made them so wild that 
they were no longer controllable, led him into many extravagances which he afterwards 
regretted. On these occasions he was malicious and easily jealous, unable to temper 
his wit or restrain his actions, so that while his friends despaired of him, his ene m ies 
had ample opportunity of slandering him and bringing reproaches upon his name. 
These irregularities drove him into exile and spoilt his reputation. Thus the humours 
of that unruly age became fixed on him, and posterity has unjustly caricatured 
him as a type of Restoration rake or scoundrel. There is nothing to be gained by 
attempting to scrape away this superficial, if unpleasant, veneer. We cannot remove it, 
but because it cannot conceal the permanent qualities of Rochester’s mind, we may 
pierce it through and take account of what lies on the other side. 

“ He was naturally modest,” says Burnet, “ until the Court corrupted him.” 
Modesty came to him naturally; his genius needed no advertisement The effect, 
moreover, of his life at Court was not to destroy this good quality, but to add so much 
vigour to his natural wit that the steady glow of the one grew faint by the brilliant 
sparkle of the other. The weapon of his wit, u whose Edge cou’d ease by cutting 
and whose Point cou’d tickle while it prob’d,” became the terror of the Foplings 
and the Poetasters, whose follies it punished relentlessly. “ Who can abstain from 
satire in this Age ? ” he had written, and the pungency and rebuke of his political 
and social satire, his bitter comments on the King and his mistresses show, not only 
the breadth of his vision, but also a power of applied criticism, that belongs more 
properly to the eighteenth century. “ II a la distinction amere d’un esprit que la vie 

* “ Tho’ his obscene Poetry cannot be directly justified in point of Decency ... it may 
perhaps deserve Pardon, if we consider not only when ’twas writ, but also to whom ’twas 
addressed ... my Lord Rochester [did not] design [these] Songs . . , to be sung for Anthems 
in the King’s Chapel, any more than he did his other obscene writings, for the Cabinets of 
Ladies, or the Closets of Divines . . . but for the private diversion of those happy few, whom 
he us’d to charm with his Company, and honour with his Friendship.” Preface to Valeniinian. 
Lord Orford is of a different mind : “ The Earl of Rochester,” he observes, “ a man whom the 
Muses were fond to inspire, and ashamed to avow ; and who practised, without the least reserve, 
the secret which can make verses more read for their defects than for their merits.” Noble 
Authors . 

j" Saint ^vremond. Letter to the Duchess of Mazarine. 

( xlvii ) 


intense et libre a ddtruit de bonne heure, mais en l’affinant et l’aiguisant.”* When 
his faculties were free from the tyranny of drink or debauch, he perceived more clearly 
than any of his contemporaries the darker side of life, so that it is not surprising to 
find that he shared, before his time, another mood of the eighteenth century — 
melancholy and fits of loneliness and depression. The rational mind had turned 
away from the romance of the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, in order to examine 
itself, and the scientific significance of its surroundings. Its enthusiasm discovered 
some of the mysteries of the world in which it existed. Its attitude to life, however, 
admitted no easy solution, nor would an alembic extract the essence of its many moods. 
To an understanding of these, Rochester, with that 44 goggle-eye to business ” of which 
he had boasted to Henry Savile, came nearer perhaps than any courtier. And this he 
did despite those fits of imprudence and ill-humour by which he is usually remembered. 
44 ’Tis not an easy thing,” he writes, 44 to be intirely happy, but to be kind is very easy, 
and that is the greatest Measure of Happiness. I say not this to put you in mind of 
being kind to me . . . but to shew that I my self have a sense of what the Methods 
of my Life seem so utterly to contradict.” In that mad carousal of the Restoration 
he felt the romantic melancholy of the new generation ; it is expressed in a lyric form 
which was to lie forgotten for many years : 

44 All my past Life is mine no more. 

The flying Hours are gone 
Like transitory Dreams giv’n o’er 
Whose Images are kept in store. 

By Memory alone.” 

When his spirits were neither inflamed by wine nor damped by melancholy he was 
a subject not only for admiration and delight, but also for the most hyperbolic praise. 
Sometimes these compliments were made ridiculous by their exalted flattery, witness 
the dedications of other men’s work,*); but the testimonies of Saint £vremond, of Burnet, 
and still more of Robert Wolseley, afe invaluable documents. The last of these, in a 
preface to the first edition of Valentih}an five years after Rochester’s death, finely 
appreciates the outstanding qualities ofsjiis friend : 44 There has not liv’d in many 
Ages^ (if ever) so extraordinary, and I think I may add so useful a Person, as most 
Englishmen knew my Lord to have been^ whether we consider the constant good 
Sense, and the agreeable Mirth of his ordinary Conversation, or the vast reach and 
compass of his Invention, and the wonderfuP&epth of his retir’d Thoughts, the un- 
common Graces of his Fashion, or the inimitable Turns of his Wit, the becoming 
gentleness and bewitching softness of his Civility^jpr the force and fitness of his Satire; 
for as he was both the Delight and the Wonder ^f Men, the Love and Dotage of 
Women, so he was a continual Curb to I mper ti toi ce, and the publick Censor of 
Folly. Never did Man stay in his Company unentdttain’d, or leave it uninstructed; 
never was his Understanding biass’ d, or his Pleasantnel^forc’d; never did he laugh in 

* Legouis et Cazamian : Htstoire de la literature anglaiseX 

1" example, Sir Francis Fane, in his dedication to Love ih^tke Dark : 44 1 never return 
from your Lordship’s most charming and instructive conversation fai^t I am inspir’d with a new 
Genius . . I find myself not only a better poet, or better philosopher, but much more than 
these, a better Christian.” 

( xlviii ) 


* == "" — $£&== = a* 

the wrong place, or prostitute his Sense to serve his Luxury; never did he stab into 
the Wounds of fallen Virtue, with a base and cowardly Insult, or smooth the face of 
prosperous Villainy, with the Paint and Washes of a mercenary Wit; never did he 
spare a Fop for being rich, or flatter a Knave for being great.” These generous words 
are a fair description of Lord Rochester in the strength of his manhood, such a descrip- 
tion as would suit admirably the beauty and elegance of the portraits that were painted 
of him,* where there is no suggestion of intemperateness or uncontrolled passion.f 
He seems to have had a talent for reciting verses extempore, a quality that suited 
his turn of thought and added to the pleasure of his company. Riding one day on 
horseback with the King, he is said to have spoken these lines at his Majesty’s request: 

“ Here’s Monmouth the witty, 

Laurendine the pritty. 

And Frazier the great physitian; 

But as for the rest 
Take York for a Jest 

And yourself for a great Politician.”^: 

Only a few of his remarks are recorded; Dryden§ records a criticism of Cowley 
whom Rochester owned as his master: “not being of God,” said Lord Rochester, 
“ he could not stand,” and another in reply to one who, to commend a bad tragedy, 
said it was written in three weeks : “ How the Devil could he be so long about it ? ”|| 
His letters give a better idea of his wit and generosity. Those he sent to his wife 
are concerned with her health and the happiness of her children; even in sickness he 
does not forget her : “ I hope you excuse my sending you noe money ... if I had 

* Several portraits exist. One by Sir Peter Lely from which White’s well-known engraving 
was taken ; there are other engravings of the same painting. At Warwick Castle, a portrait 
of him crowning a monkey with a laurel wreath, his left hand enclosing a manuscript copy of 
verses ; painted by Harding and engraved by Gardiner. A fanciful engraving, in a pastoral 
setting, by Rhodes. A drawing after Lely’s portrait by Thurston, and an extremely effective 
drawing by Loggan. The last of these shows an older face, with the same features, however, 
as the others : a tall face framed in a magnificent curled wig ; full lips, the lower curved by a 
criticising smile ; the eyes set widely apart and observant ; the nostrils broad. It is interesting 
to find that Congreve desired to possess a picture of the Earl of Rochester. 

t These lines, spoken extempore, to a Post-boy, are attributed to him in a MS. common- 
place book, and dated 1674 : 

“ Son of a Whore, God damn you, can you tell 
A peerless Peer the readiest way to Hell ? 

I’ve outswilled Bacchus, sworn of my own make 
Oaths would fright Furies and make Pluto quake. 

I’ve swived more whores more ways than Sodom’s walls 
E’er knew, or the College of Rome’s Cardinals.” 

$ The magnanimity of Dryden’s reference to one at whose hands he had suffered so unfairly, 
as “ A man of Quality, whose ashes I will not disturb,” is worthy of record. 

§ Preface to his Fables . 

|| Biographia Britannica . Article on Dryden. Of Buckhurst, Rochester is supposed to have 
said that “ he did not know how it was, but Lord Dorset might do anything, and yet was never 
to blame.”- — Lord Orford, Noble Authors. 

( xlix ) 


•a... . ... =^ggg . ■ > 

not pawn’d my plate, I believe I must have starv’d. . . And there is no trace of 
hypocrisy in the advice he gives his son: “the way to be truly Wise,” he writes, 
“ is to serve God, learn your Book, and observe the Instructions of your Parents first, 
and next your Tutor, according as you employ that Time, you are to be Happy or 
Unhappy forever.” 

Wisdom he had learned, but in a harder school. He had sought it in the confusion 
of an unwise generation, among the plots and counterplots of those who were his 
companions in midnight debauches and in the city stews, and only found it when his 
body was broken and his spirit as weak as a child’s. Death overtook him at last. 
He died, unaware of the grief he caused and the numerous elegies* that bewailed his 
decease, the poet of an age in its decline, a man of an age that had not yet come. 


8 an Figilio. Garda , 1925. 

* Elegies on his death were written by Aphra Behn, Oldham, Nathaniel Hanbury, 
Mrs. Wharton, Mary Woodforde (unpublished MS. 14519, £F. 1 15-123, Bodleian),' etc. ; 
many of them were printed on folio sheets and sold in the streets of London. 


John Wilmot born .... 
Succeeds to the Earldom at his father’s death 
Wadham College, Oxford 
Proceeds to the Degree of M. A. 

Foreign travel ..... 
Presented at Court .... 
Attempts to elope with Miss Malet 
Naval Volunteer at Bergen . 

Serves again in the Channel . 

Present at Court balls . . . Novem 

Gentleman of the Bedchamber 
Marries Miss Malet .... 
Summoned to the House of Lords . 

Anne Wilmot baptized .... 

In Paris in banishment 

Evelyn meets him at Windsor 

Charles Wilmot baptized 

Settle dedicates Empress of Morocco to him 

Dryden dedicates Marriage a la Mode 

Banished for Satire on the King ) 

Trains Mrs. Barry for the Stage J 
Grant of the Keepership of Woodstock . 
Elizabeth Wilmot baptized 
Banished for the History of Insipids . 

Malet Wilmot baptized .... 
Produces Crowne’s Masque of Calisto at Court 
Grant of the Keepership of the Hawks . 
Tavern brawl at Epsom 
Etheredge’s Sir Fopling Flutter acted 
Banished for satire on the King ) 

Sets up as a Mountebank / 

Writes an Epilogue for Charles D’ Avenant’s C 
Dines regularly with the King 
Mrs. Barry bears him a daughter . 

Health begins to fail .... 
Henry Savile in Paris .... 
Conversations with Bishop Burnet . 

Dryden beaten in Rose- Alley 
Burnet at his death-bed 
Dies at High Lodge, Woodstock Park 
First Edition of some of his poems . 

Burnet’s Life and Death 

His Will proved 

His wife dies of apoplexy 

Valentinian acted ..... 

Valentinian printed in quarto . 

April ist, 1647. 
February 9th, 1658. 
January 18th, 1660. 
September 9th, 1661. 
. 1661-1664. 
. • 1664. 
. May 28th, 1 665. 
August ist, 1665. 
. 1666. 

I December 25th, 1666. 

. 1666. 

January 29th, 1667. 
October 5th, 1667. 
August 30th, 1 669. 
April, 1669. 
November 24th, 1670. 
January 2nd, 1671. 

. 1671. 

T • • 1673. 

. X673. 

. . . I674. 

. July 13th, 1674. 

. 1675. 

January 6th, 1675. 

. 1675. 
. 1675. 

. . June, 1676. 

. 1676. 

. 1676. 

. 1677. 

. . 1676-16 77. 

. 1677. 

. . . 1678. 

. 1678. 

October, 1679. 
December 12th, 1679. 
July 20th-24th, 1680. 
. July 26th, 1680. 

. 1680. 

. 1680. 

February 23rd, 1681. 

August 20th, 1681. 
February, 1683-1684. 

. 1685. 







P Rithee now, fond Fool, give o’er; 

Since my Heart is gone before, 

To what purpofe fhou’d I ftay? 

Love commands another wav. 



Perjur’d Swain, I knew the time 
When Diffembling was your Crime. 

In pity now employ that Art 
Which firft betray’d, to eafe my Heart. 


Women can with pleafure feign : 

Men diffemble ftill with pain. • 

What advantage will it prove 
If I lye, who cannot love ? 


Tell me then the reafon why, 

Love from Hearts in Love does fly? 

Why the Bird will build a Neft, 

Where he ne’er intends to reft? 


Love, like other little Boys, 

Cries for Hearts, as they for Toys : 

Which, when gain’d, in Childifh Play, 
Wantonly are thrown away. 

( 3 ) 



Still on Wing, or on his Knees, 

Love does nothing by degrees : 

Bafely flying when moft priz’d, 
Meanly fawning when defpis’d : 
Flatt’ring or infulting ever, 

Generous and grateful never: 

All his Joys are fleeting Dreams, 

All his Woes fevere Extreams. 

Strep hon 

Nymph, unjuftly you inveigh; 

Love, like us, muft Fate obey. 

Since ’tis Nature’s Law to Change, 
Conftancy alone is ftrange. 

See the Heav’ns in Lightnings break, 
Next in Storms of Thunder fpeak; 
’Till a kind Rain from above 
Makes a Calm, — fo ’tis in Love. 
Flames begin our firft Addrefs, 

Like meeting Thunder we embrace: 
Then you know the Show’rs that fall 
Quench the fire, and quiet all. 


How lhou’d I thefe Show’rs forget, 
’Twas fo pleafant to be wet ? 

They kill’d Love, I knew it well, 

I dy’d all the while they fell. 

Say at leaft what Nymph it is 
Robs my Breafl: of fo much Blifs ? 

If fhe is fair, I fhall be eas’d, 

Thro’ my Ruin you’ll be pleas’d. 


Daphne never was fo fair: 

Strephon , fcarcely, fo fincere. 

Gentle, Innocent, and Free, 

Ever pleas’d with only me. 

Many Charms my Heart enthral, 

But there’s one above ’em all : 

With averfion fhe does fly 
Tedious, trading Conftancy. 

( 4 ) 




Cruel Shepherd! I fubmit; 

Do what Love and you think fit: 
Change is Fate, and not Defign; 

Say you wou’d have ftill been mine. 


Nymph, I cannot: ’Tis too true, 
Change has greater Charms than you: 
Be, by my Example, wife, 

Faith to Pleafure facrifice. 


Silly Swain, I’ll have you know, 
’Twas my practice long ago: 

Whilft you vainly thought me true, 

I was falfe in fcorn of you. 

By my Tears, my Heart’s difguife, 

I thy Love and thee defpife. 
Womankind more Joy difcovers 
Making Fools, than keeping Lovers. 


Written at the Bath, in the Tear 1674 


T Here fighs not on the Plain 
So loft a Swain as I ; 

Scorch’d up with Love, froz’n with Difdain, 
Of killing Sweetnefs I complain. 


If ’tis Corinna, die. 

Since firft my dazled Eyes were thrown 
On that bewitching Face, 

Like ruin’d Birds robb’d of their Young, 
Lamenting, frighted, and undone, 

( 5 ) 


« - <Sg 

I fly from place to place. 

Fram’d by fome Cruel Powers above, 
So nice fhe is, and fair; 

None from undoing can remove, 

Since all who are not blind, muft Love; 
Who are not vain, Defpair. 


The Gods no fooner give a Grace, 

But, fond of their own Art, 
Severely Jealous, ever place 
To guard the Glories of a Face, 

A Dragon in the Heart. 

Proud and Ul-natur’d Pow’rs they are, 
Who, peevifh to Mankind, 

For their own Honour’s fake, with care 
Make a fweet Form divinely fair, 

Then add a cruel Mind. 


Since file’s infenfible of Love, 

By Honour taught to hate, 

If we, forc’d by Decrees above, 

Muft fenfible to Beauty prove, 

How Tyrannous is Fate? 


; I to the Nymph have never nam’d 

The caufe of all my Pain. 


Such Baflifulnefs may well be blam’d; 
For fince to ferve we’re not afham’d, 
Why fliould fhe blufli to Reign ? 


But if her haughty Heart defpife 
My humble proffer’d one; 

The Juft Compaflion file denies, 

I may obtain from others Eyes; 

Hers are not fair alone. 

( 6 ) 

: 3 >* 


*g ■ igg ' 

Devouring Flames require new Food; 

My Heart’s confum’d almoft : 

New Fires muft kindle in her Blood, 
Or Mine go out, and that’s as good. 


Would’ft live, when Love is loft? 

Be dead before thy Paffion dies ; 

For if thou fhould’ft furvive, 

What Anguifh would the Heart furprize, 
To fee her Flames begin to rife, 

And thine no more alive. 


Rather what Pleafure fhould I meet 
In my triumphant Scorn, 

To fee my Tyrant at my Feet; 
While taught by Her, unmov’d I fit 
A Tyrant in my Turn. 


Ungentle Shepherd! ceafe, for fhame; 

Which way can you pretend 
To merit fo Divine a Flame, 

Who to dull Life make a mean Claim, 
When Love is at an end? 

As Trees are by their Bark embrac’d, 
Love to my Soul doth cling; 
When torn by the Herd’s greedy Tafte, 
The Injur’d Plants feel they’re defac’d, 
They wither in the Spring. 

My rifled Love would foon retire, 
Diffolving into Air, 

Shou’d I that Nymph ceafe to admire, 
Blefs’d in whofe Arms I will expire, 

Or at her Feet defpair. 

( 7 ) 





A LL things fubmit themfelves to your Command, 
Fair Calia, when it does not Love withftand: 
The Pow’r it borrows from your Eyes alone, 

All but the God mull yield to, who has none. 

Were he not blind, fuch are the Charms you have, 
He’d quit his Godhead to become your Slave, 

Be proud to aft a mortal Hero’s Part, 

And throw himfelf for Fame on his own Dart. 

But Fate has otherwife difpos’d of things, 

In different Bands fubjefted Slaves, and Kings: 
Fetter’d in Forms of Royal State are they, 

While we enjoy the Freedom to Obey. 

That Fate like you refiltlefs does ordain, 

To Love, that over Beauty he fhall Reign. 

By Harmony the Univerfe does move, 

And what is Harmony but Mutual Love ? 

Who would refill an Empire fo Divine, 

Which Univerfal Nature does enjoin? 

See gentle Brooks, how quietly they glide, 

Killing the rugged Banks on either fide. 

While in their Cryftal Streams at once they Ihow, 
And with them feed the Flow’rs which they bellow: 
Tho’ rudely throng’d by a too near Embrace, 

In gentle Murmurs they keep on their Pace 
To the lov’d Sea; for Streams have their Defires; 
Cool as they are, they feel Love’s powerful Fires; 
And with fuch Paflion, that if any Force 
Stop or moleft them in their amorous Courfe; 

They fwell, break down with Rage, and ravage o’er 
The Banks they kifs’d, and Flow’rs they fed before. 
Submit then, Calia, ere you be reduc’d; 

For Rebels, vanquilh’d once, are vilely us’d. 

Beauty’s no more but the dead Soil, which Love 
Manures, and does by wife Commerce improve: 
Sailing by Sighs, through Seas of Tears, he fends 
Courtlhips from foreign Hearts, for your own ends r 
Cherilh the Trade, for as with Indians we 
Get Gold, and Jewels, for our Trumpery: 

So to each other, for their ufelefs Toys, 

Lovers afford whole Magazines of Joys. 

( 8 ) 



But if you’re fond of Baubles, be, and ftarve, 

Your Guegaw Reputation ftill preferve : 

Live upon Mo deify and empty Fame, 

Foregoing Senfe for a fantaftick Name. 


C Mlia^ that faithful Servant you difown, 

Would in obedience keep his Love his own: 
But bright Ideas, fuch as you infpire, 

We can no more conceal, than not admire. 

My Heart at home in my own Breaft did dwell, 
Like humble Hermit in a peaceful Cell. 

Unknown and undifturb’d it refted there, 

Stranger alike to Hope and to Defpair. 

Now Love with a tumultuous Train invades 
The facred Quiet of thofe hallow’d Shades. 

His fatal Flames fhine out to ev’ry Eye, 

Like blazing Comets in a Winter Sky. 

How can my Pafficn merit your Offence, 

That challenges fo little Recompence : 

For I am one, born only to admire; 

Too humble e’er to hope, fcarce to defire. 

A thing whofe Blifs depends upon your Will, 
Who wou’d be proud you’d deign to ufe him ill. 
Then give me leave to glory in my Chain, 

My fruitlefs Sighs, and my unpitied Pain. 

Let me but ever love, and ever be 
Th’ Example of your Pow’r and Cruelty. 

Since fo much Scorn does in your Breaft refide, 

Be more indulgent to its Mother Pride. 

Kill all you ftrike, and trample on their Graves; 
But own the Fates of your neglefted Slaves: 
When in the Croud yours undiftinguifh’d lies, 
You give away the Triumph of your Eyes. 
Perhaps (obtaining this) you’ll think I find 
More Mercy, than your Anger has defign’d : 

But hove has carefully defign’d for me, 

The laft Perfection of Mifery. 

For to my State the Hopes of Common Peace, 
Which ev’ry Wretch enjoys in Death, muft ceafe: 
My worft of Fates attend me in my Grave, 

Since, dying, I muft be no more your Slave. 

( 9 ) 




L OVE bid me hope, and I obey’d; 

j Phillis continu’d {till unkind : 

Then you may e’en defpair, he faid, 

In vain I ftrive to change her Mind. 

2 . 

Honour ' s got in, and keeps her Heart; 

Durft he but venture once abroad, 
In my own Right I’d take your part, 
And fliew my felf a mightier God. 

3 - 

This huffing Honour domineers 

In Breafts, where he alone has place: 
But if true gen’rous Love appears, 

The Hector dares not mew his Face. 

4 - 

Let me ftill languilh, and complain, 

Be moft inhumanely deny’d: 

I have fome pleafure in my pain, 

She can have none with all her Pride. 


I fall a Sacrifice to Love, 

She lives a Wretch for Honour's fake; 

Whofe Tyrant does moft cruel prove, 
The difference is not hard to make. 

6 . 

Conlider Real Honour then, 

You’ll find Hers cannot be the fame: 

’Tis noble Confidence in Men, 

In Women mean miftruftful Shame. 

( ) 





T HE utmoft Grace the Greeks could £hew, 
When to the Trojans they grew kind, 
Was with their Arms to let ’em go, 

And leave their lingring Wives behind. 
They beat the Men, and burnt the Town, 
Then all the Baggage was their own. 

2 . 

There the kind Deity of Wine 

Kifs’d the foft wanton God of Love; 
This clapt his Wings; that prefs’d his Vine, 
And their beft Pow’rs united move. 
While each brave Greek embrac’d his Punk, 
Lull’d her afleep, and then grew drunk. 



A N Age in her Embraces pail, 

Would feem a Winter’s day; 
Where Life and Light with envious hafte, 
Are torn and fnatch’d away. 

2 . 

But, oh ! how flowly Minutes roul, 
When abfent from her Eyes, 

That fed my Love, which is my Soul; 
It languifhes and dies. 

For then no more a Soul but Shade, 

It mournfully does move; 

And haunts my Breafb, by abfence made 
The living Tomb of Love. 

( ii ) 




: 5 >* 

4 ’ 

You wifer Men defpife me not; 

Whofe Love-lick Fancy raves, 

On Shades of Souls, and Heav’n knows what; 
Short Ages live in Graves. 


Whene’er thofe wounding Eyes, fo full 
Of fweetnefs, you did fee ; 

Had you not been profoundly dull, 
You had gone mad like me. 

6 . 

Nor cenfure us, You who perceive 
My belt belov’d and me, 

Sigh and lament, complain and grieve, 
You think we difagree, 

7 * 

Alas! ’tis facred Jealoulie, 

Love rais’d to an Extream; 

The only Proof ’twixt them and me, 
We love, and do not dream. 

8 . 

Fantaftick Fancies fondly move ; 

And in frail Joys believe, 

Taking falfe Pleafure for true Love; 
But Pain can ne’er deceive. 

9 - 

Kind jealous Doubts, tormenting Fears, 
And anxious Cares, when paffc, 

Prove our Hearts Treafure fix’d and dear, 
And make us bleft at laft. 

( 12 ) 






A Bfent from thee I languifh ftill ; 

Then ask me not. When I return ? 
The ftraying Fool ’twill plainly kill, 

To wi£h all Day, all Night to mourn. 

2 . 

Dear ; from thine Arms then let me flie, 
That my fantaftick Mind may prove, 
The Torments it deferves to try, 

That tears my fixt Heart from my Love. 

3 * 

When wearied with a world of Woe, 

To thy fafe Bofom I retire, 

Where Love and Peace and Truth does flow, 
May I contented there expire. 

4 - 

Left once more wandring from that Heav’n, 
I fall on fome bafe Heart unbleft; 
Faithlefs to thee, falfe, unforgiven, 

And lofe my everlafting Reft. 



W Hat cruel Pains Corinna takes, 

To force that harmlefs Frown: 
When not one Charm her Face forfakes, 
Love cannot lofe his own. 

2 . 

So fweet a Face, fo foft a Heart, 
Such Eyes fo very kind, 
Betray, alas ! the filly Art 
Vertue had ill defign’d. 

( 13 ) 


3 * 

Poor feeble Tyrant! who in vain 
Would proudly take upon her, 
Againft kind Nature to maintain 
Affe&ed Rules of Honour. 

4 * 

The Scorn fhe bears fo helplefs proves, 
When I plead Paffion to her, 

That much me fears, (but more fhe loves,) 
Her ValTal fhould undo her. 

To Her ancient Lover. 


\ Ncient Perfon, for whom I 

All the flatt’ring Youth defie; 
Long be it e’re thou grow Old, 
Aking, fhaking, crafie, cold. 

But ftill continue as thou art, 
Ancient Perfon of my Heart. 

2 . 

On thy withered Lips and dry, 

Which like barren Furrows lie; 
Brooding Kiffes I will pour, 

Shall thy youthful Heart reftore. 

Such kind Show’rs in Autumn fall. 
And a fecond Spring recall : 

Nor from thee will ever part, 

Ancient Perfon of my Heart. 

3 - 

Thy Nobler Part, which but to name, 
In our Sex wou’d be counted fhame, 
By Ages frozen grafp poffeft, 

From their Ice fhall be releaft: 

And, footh’d by my reviving Hand, 
In former Warmth and Vigour Hand. 

( 14 ' 


« = = 

All a Lover’s Wifli can reach, 

For thy Joy my Love fhall teach: 
And for thy Pleafure fhall improve 
All that Art can add to Love. 

Yet ftill I love thee without Art, 
Ancient P erf on of my Heart. 



P Hillis , be gentler, I advife; 

Make up for time mif-fpent, 
When Beauty on its Death-bed lies, 
’Tis high time to repent. 

2 . 

Such is the Malice, of your Fate, 
That makes you old fo foon ; 
Your Pleafure ever comes too late, 
How early e’er begun. 

3 - 

Think what a wretched thing is fhe, 
Whofe Stars contrive in fpight; 
The Morning of her Love fhould be, 
Her fading Beauties Night. 

4 * 

Then if, to make your ruin more, 
You’ll peevifhly be coy, 

Die with the Scandal of a Whore, 
And never know the Joy. 



S Uch perfefl Blifs, fair Chloris , we 
In our Enjoyment prove: 

’Tis pity reftlefs Jealoufie 

Should mingle with our Love. 

( 15 ) 




2 . 

Let us, fince Wit has taught us how, 
Raife Pleafure to the top : 

You Rival Bottle muft allow, 

I’ll fuffer Rival Fop. 

3 - 

Think not in this that I defign 

A Treafon ’gainft Love’s Charms, 
When following the God of Wine, 

I leave my Chloris Arms. 

4 * 

Since you have that, for all your hafte, 
At which I’ll ne’er repine, 

Its Pleafure can repeat as faft, 

As I the Joys of Wine. 

5 ' 

There’s not a brisk infipid Spark, 
That flutters in the Town : 

But with your wanton Eyes you mark 
Him out to be your own. 

6 . 

Nor do you think it worth your Care, 
How empty, and how dull, 

The Heads of your Admirers are, 

So that their Veins be full. 

7 - 

All this you freely may confefs, 

Yet we ne’er difagree: 

For did you love your Pleafure lefs, 
You were no Match for me. 

( 16) 




H OW bleffc was the Created State 

Of Man and Woman e’re they fell, 
Compar’d to our unhappy Fate; 

We need not fear another Hell ! 

2 . 

Naked, beneath cool Shades, they lay, 
Enjoyment waited on Defire: 

Each Member did thier Wills obey, 

Nor could a Wi£h fet Pleafure higher. 

3 * 

But we, poor Slaves to Hope and Fear, 

Are never of our Joys fecure: 

They leffen ftill as they draw near, 

And none but dull Delights endure. 

4 - 

Then, Chloris , while I Duty pay, 

The Nobler Tribute of my Heart, 

Be not You fo fevere to fay, 

You love me for a frailer Part. 



\ LL my paft Life is mine no more, 
X 3L The flying Hours are gone: 
Like tranfitory Dreams giv’n o’er, 
Whofe Images are kept in ftore, 

By Memory alone. 


The Time that is to come is not; 

How can it then be mine ? 

The prefent Moment’s all my Lot; 
And that, as faft as it is got, 

Phillis, is only thine. 

( 17 ) 



3 - 

Then talk not of Inconftancy, 

Falfe Hearts, and broken Vows; 
If I, by Miracle, can be 
This live-long Minute true to thee, 
’Tis all that Heav’n allows. 



W Hile on thofe lovely Looks I gaze, 
To fee a Wretch purfuing, 

In Raptures of a bleft Amaze, 

His pleafing happy Ruin. 

’Tis not for pity that I move; 

His Fate is too afpiring, 

Whofe heart, broke with a Load of Love, 
Dies wifliing and admiring. 

2 . 

But if this Murder you’d forego, 

Your Slave from Death removing; 
Let me your Art of Charming know, 
Or learn you mine of Loving. 

But whether Life, or Death, betide, 

In Love *tis equal meafure, 

The Vidtor lives with empty Pride; 
The Vanquifh’d die with Pleafure. 


L Ove a Woman ! you’re an Afs, 
j ’Tis a moft infipid Paflion 
To chufe out for your Happinefs, 

The fillieft Part of God’s Creation. 

( 18 ) 


2 . 

Let the Porter, and the Groom, 

Things defign’d for dirty Slaves; 
Drudge in fair Aurelia's Womb, 

To get Supplies for Age and Graves. 

3 - 

Farewel, Woman, I intend, 

Henceforth, ev’ry night to fit 
With my lewd well-natur’d Friend, 
Drinking to engender Wit. 



T O this moment a Rebel, I throw down my Arms, 

Great Love, at firfl: fight of O Undo’s bright Charms; 
Made proud, and fecure by fuch Forces as thefe, 

You may now play the Tyrant as foon as you pleafe. 


When Innocence, Beauty, and Wit do confpire 
To betray, and engage, and inflame my defire; 
Why fhould I decline what I cannot avoid, 

And let pleafing hope by bafe Fear be deftroy’d ? 

3 - 

Her Innocence cannot contrive to undo me, 

Her Beauty’s inclin’d, or why fhou’d it purfue me ? 

And Wit has to Pleafure been ever a Friend, 

Then what room for Defpair, fince Delight is Love’s End ? 

4 - 

There can be no danger in Sweetnefs and Youth, 
Where Love is fecur’d by Good-nature and Truth: 
On her Beauty I’ll gaze, and of Pleafure complain; 
While every kind Look adds a Link to my Chain. 

( l 9 ) 




’Tis more to maintain, than it was to furprize, 

But her Wit leads in Triumph the Slave of her Eyes : 

I beheld, with the lofs of my Freedom before, 

But hearing, for ever muft ferve and adore. 

6 . 

Too bright is my Goddefs, her Temple too weak: 

Retire, Divine Image 1 I feel my Heart break. 

Help, Love\ I diffolve in a Rapture of Charms; 

At the thought of thofe Joys I fhou’d meet in her Arms. 



’npls not that I am weary grown 
_|_ Of being yours, and yours alone: 
But with what Face can I incline, 

To damn you to be only mine ? 

You, whom fome kinder Pow’r did fafhion, 
By Merit, and by Inclination, 

The Joy at leaft of a whole Nation. 

2 . 

Let meaner Spirits of your Sex, 

With humble Aims their Thoughts perplex: 
And boaft, if, by their Arts they can 
Contrive to make one happy Man. 

While, mov’d by an impartial Senfe, 
Favours, like Nature, you difpence. 

With univerfal Influence. 

3 - 

See the kind Seed-receiving Earth, 
To every Grain affords a Birth: 

On her no Show’rs unwelcome fall, 
Her willing Womb retains ’em all. 
And ihall my Calia be confin’d ? 
No, live up to thy mighty Mind; 
And be the Miftrefs of Mankind. 

( 20 ) 






V Ulcan contrive me fuch a Cup 
As Neftor us’d of old: 

Shew all thy Skill to trim it up; 

Damask it round with Gold. 


Make it fo large that, fill’d with Sack 
Up to the fwelling Brim, 

Vaft Toafts, on the delicious Lake, 
Like Ships at Sea, may fwim. 

3 - 

Engrave not Battel on his Cheek; 

With War I’ve nought to do : 

I’m none of thofe that took Maftrick , 
Nor Yarmouth Leaguer knew. 

4 - 

Let it no Name of Planets tell, 
Fixt Stars, or Conftellations : 
For I am no Sir Sindrophel , 

Nor none of his Relations. 

5 * 

But carve thereon a fpreading Vine; 

Then add two lovely Boys ; 

Their Limbs in amorous Folds intwine, 
The Type of future Joys. 

6 . 

Cupid and Bacchus my Saints are; 

May Drink and Love ffcill reign : 
With Wine I wafh away my Cares, 
And then to Love again. 

( 2i ) 





/\ S Chloris full of harmlefs Thoughts 
±\, Beneath a Willow lay, 

Kind Love a youthful Shepherd brought, 
To pafs the Time away. 


She blulht to be encounter’d fo, 
And chid the amorous Swain : 
But as flie ftrove to rife and go, 
He pull’d her down again. 

3 - 

A fudden Pallion feiz’d her Heart, 
In fpight of her Difdain; 

She found a Pulfe in ev’ry Part, 
And Love in ev’ry Vein. 

4 * 

Ah, Youth! (faid fhe) what Charms are thefe, 
That conquer and furprize ? 

Ah ! let me for unlefs you pleafe, 

I have no power to rife. 

5 - 

She fainting fpoke, and trembling lay, 
For fear he fhould comply: 

Her lovely Eyes her Heart betray, 
And give her Tongue the Lye. 

6 . 

Thus fhe whom Princes had deny’d, 
With all their Pomp and Train ; 
Was, in the lucky Minute, try’d, 

And yielded to a Swain. 

( 22 ) 



* 8 ! 



G ive me leave to rail at you, 

I ask nothing but my due, 

To call you falfe, and then to fay 
You lhall not keep my Heart a Day: 

But, alas ! againft my will, 

I muft be your Captive ftill. 

Ah! be kinder then; for I 
Cannot change, and would not die. 

2 . 

Kindnefs has reliftlefs Charms, 

All befides but weakly move; 

Fierceft Anger it difarms, 

And clips the Wings of flying Love. 
Beauty does the Heart invade, 

Kindnefs only can perfwade; 

It gilds the Lover’s fervile Chain, 

And makes the Slaves grow pleas’d again. 



N othing adds to your fond Fire 

More than Scorn, and cold Difdain: 
I, to cherifh your Defire, 

Kindnefs us’d, but ’twas in vain. 

2 . 

You infilled on your Slave, 

Humble Love you foon refus’d: 
Hope not then a Pow’r to have, 
Which inglorioufly you us’d. 

3 * 

Think not, Thirfis , I will e’re, 

By my Love my Empire lofe : 
You grow conftant through Defpair, 
Love return’d you wou’d abufe. 

(23 ) 


=d s = 


: 3 > 

4 * 

Though you Hill poffefs my Heart, 
Scorn and Rigour I muft feign: 

Ah ! forgive that only Art, 

Love has left your Love to gain. 

5 ‘ 

You that could my Heart fubdue, 

To new Conquefts ne’er pretend: 

Let the Example make me true, 

And of a conquer’d Foe a Friend. 

6 . 

Then, if e’er I fhould complain 
Of your Empire, or my Chain, 

Summon all the powerful Charms, 
And kill the Rebel in your Arms. 



F Air Cloris in a Pig-Sty lay, 

Her tender Herd lay by her : 

She flept, in murmuring Gruntlings they, 
Complaining of the fcorching Day, 

Her Slumbers thus infpire. 

2 . 

She dreamt, while Ihe with careful Pains, 
Her fnowy Arms employ’d, 

In Ivory Pails to fill out Grains, 

One of her Love-convi6ted Swains, 

Thus halting to her cry’d : 

3 - 

Fly, Nymph, oh! fly, e’re ’tis too late, 

A dear-lov’d Life to fave : 

Refcue your Bofom Pig from Fate, 

Who now expires, hung in the Gate 
That leads to yonder Cave. 

( H) 


■bhm - 

- % Jt == 




My felf had try’d to fet him free, 

Rather than brought the News : 

But I am fo abhorr’d by thee, 

That ev’n thy Darling’s Life from me, 

I know thou wou’dft refufe. 


Struck with the News, as quick fhe flies 
As Blufhes to her Face : 

Not the bright Lightning from the Skies, 

Nor Love, fhot from her brighter Eyes, 
Move half fo fwift a pace. 

6 . 

This Plot, it feems, the luftful Slave 
Had laid againfl: her Honour: 

Which not one God took care to fave, 

For he purfues her to the Cave, 

And throws himfelf upon her. 


Now pierced is her Virgin Zone, 

She feels the Foe within it; 

She hears a broken amorous Groan, 

The panting Lover’s fainting Moan, 

Juft in the happy Minute. 



I Cannot change, as others do, 

Though you unjuftly fcorn: 

Since that poor Swain that fighs for you, 

For you alone was born. 

No, Phillis, no, your Heart to move 
A furer way I’ll try: 

And to revenge my flighted Love, 

Will {till love on, will ftill love on, and die. 

( 2 5 ) 



2 . 

When, kill’d with Grief, Amintas lies; 

And you to mind lhall call, 

The Sighs that now unpitied rife, 

The Tears that vainly fall. 

That welcome Hour that ends this Smart, 
Will then begin your Pain; 

For fuch a faithful tender Heart 

Can never break, can never break in vain. 



M Y dear Miftrefs has a Heart 

Soft as thofe kind Looks file gave me; 
When with Love’s refiftlefs Art, 

And her Eyes, fhe did enflave me. 

But her Conftancy’s fo weak, 

She’s fo wild, and apt to wander; 

That my jealous Heart wou’d break, 

Should we live one Day afunder. 


Melting Joys about her move, 

Killing Pleafures, wounding Blifles; 

She can drefs her Eyes in Love, 

And her Lips can arm with Rifles. 

Angels liften when fhe fpeaks, 

She’s my Delight, all Mankinds Wonder: 
But my jealous Heart would break, 

Should we live one Day afunder. 


C LOE, by your Command, in Verfe I write: 

Shortly you’ll bid me ride aftride, and fight: 

Such Talents better with our Sex agree, 

Than lofty Flights of dangerous Poetry. 



====^ S?" i> 

Among the Men, I mean the Men of Wit, 

(At leaft they paft for fuch before they writ) 

How many bold Advent’rers for the Bays, 

Proudly defigning large Returns of Praife, 

Who durft that ftormy, pathlefs World explore, 

Were foon dafht back, and wreckt on the dull Shore, 

Broke of that little Stock they had before. 

How wou’d a Womans tott’ring Barque be toft, 

Where ftouteft Ships (the Men of Wit) are loft ? 

When I refleCt on this, I ftraight grow wife; 

And my own felf I gravely thus advife: 

Dear Artemija! Poetry’s a Snare: 

Bedlam has many Manfions; have a care: 

Your Mufe diverts you, makes the Reader fad: 

You think your felf infpir’d; he thinks you mad. 

Confider too, ’twill be difcreetly done, 

To make your felf the Fiddle of the Town. 

To find the ill-humour’d Pleafure at their heed: 

Curft when you fail, and fcorn’d when you fucceed. 

Thus, like an arrant Woman, as I am, 

No fooner well convinc’d Writing’s a ftiame; 

That Whore is fcarce a more reproachful Name 
Than Poetefs 

Like Men that marry, or like Maids that woo, 

Becaufe ’tis th’very worft thing they can do : 

Pleas’d with the Contradiction, and the Sin, 

Methinks I ftand on Thorns till I begin. 

Y’ expeCt to hear, at leaft, what Love has paft 
In this lewd Town, fince you and I faw laft; 

What change has happen’d of Intrigues, and whether 
The old ones laft, and who and who’s together. 

But how, my deareft C/oe, ftiou’d I fet 
My Pen to write, what I wou’d fain forget ? 

Or name that loft thing Love, without a Tear, 

Since fo debauch’d by ill-bred Cuftoms here ? 

Love, the moft gen’rous Paflion of the Mind; 

The fofteft Refuge Innocence can find; 

The fafe Director of unguided Youth: 

Fraught with kind Wifhes, and fecur’d by Truth: 

That Cordial-drop Heav’n in our Cup has thrown, 

To make the naufeous Draught of Life go down: 

( 27 ) 


& = - » 

On which one only Bleffing God might raife, 

In Lands of Atheifts, Subsidies of Praife : 

For none did e’er fo dull, and ftupid, prove, 

But felt a God, and bleft his Pow’r in Love: 

This only Joy, for which poor we are made, 

Is grown, like Play, to be an arrant Trade : 

The Rooks creep in, and it has got, of late, 

As many little Cheats, and Tricks, as that. 

But, what yet more a Womans Heart wou’d vex, 

’Tis chiefly carry’d on by our own Sex: 

Our filly Sex, who, born like Monarchs, free, 

Turn Gipfies for a meaner Liberty; 

And hate Reftraint, tho’ but from Infamy: 

They call whatever is not common Nice, 

And, deaf to Nature’s Rule, or Love’s advice, 

Forfake the Pleafure to purfue the Vice. 

To an exaCt Perfection they have brought 
The aCtion Love; the Paffion is forgot. 

’Tis below Wit, they tell you, to admire; 

And ev’n without approving they defire. 

Their private Wifii obeys the publick Voice, 

’Twixt good and bad Whimfey decides, not Choice. 

Fafliions grow up for tafte, at Forms they {trike; 

They know what they wou’d have, not what they like. 

Bovy’s a Beauty, if fome few agree 
To call him fo, the reft to that degree 
AffeCted are, that with their Ears they fee. 

Where I was vifiting the other Night, 

Comes a fine Lady, with her humble Knight, 

Who had prevail’d with her, through her own Skill, 

At his Requeft, though much againft his Will, 

To come to London 

As the Coach ftopt, I heard her Voice, more loud 
Than a great-bellied Woman’s in a Croud; 

Telling the Knight that her Affairs require 
He, for fome Hours, obfequioufly retire. 

I think fhe was afliam’d he fhou’d be feen, 

Hard Fate of Husbands ! the Gallant had been. 

Though a difeas’d, ill-favour’d Fool, brought in; 

Difpatch, fays {he, the Bufinefs you pretend, 

Your beaftly Vifit to your drunken Friend. " 



’ c== — ssss = < S o^ == - — ===== = = = = gp* 

A Bottle ever makes you look fo fine: 

Methinks I long to fmell you ftink of Wine. 

Your Country-drinking Breath’s enough to kill: 

Sour Ale corrected with a Limon-Pill. 

Prithee, farewel: We’ll meet again anon. 

The neceflary thing bows, and is gone. 

She flies up ftairs, and all the hafte does fihow 
That fifty antick Poftures will allow, 

And then burft out Dear Madam, am not I 

The ftrangeft, alter’d, Creature : Let me die 
I find my felf ridiculoufiy grown, 

Embarraft with my being out of Town : 

Rude and untaught like any Indian Queen ; 

My Country Nakednefs is plainly feen. 

How is Love govern’d? Love that rules the State; 

And pray who are the Men moft worn of late? 

When I was marry’ d, Fools were a-la-mode; 

The Men of Wit were held then incommode. 

Slow of Belief, and fickle in Defire, 

Who, e’re they’ll be perfwaded, mult enquire; 

As if they came to fpy, and not to admire. 

With fearching Wifdom, fatal to their eafe, 

They ftill find out why, what may, fliou’d not pleafe 
Nay, take themfelves for injur’d, when we dare 
Make ’em think better of us than we are : 

And, if we hide our Frailties from their fights, 

Call us deceitful Jilts, and Hypocrites: 

They little guefs, who at our Arts are griev’d, 

The perfedt Joy of being well deceiv’d. 

Inquifitive, as jealous Cuckolds, grow; 

Rather than not be knowing, they will know, 

What being known, creates their certain woe. 

Women fhould thefe, of all Mankind, avoid; 

For Wonder, by clear Knowledge, is deftroy’d. 

Woman, who is an arrant Bird of Night, 

Bold in the dusk, before a Fool’s dull fight, 

Muff fly, when Reafon brings the glaring Light. 

But the kind eafie Fool, apt to admire 
Himfelf, Grafts us, his Follies all confpire 
To flatter his, and favour our Defire. 

Vain of his proper Merit, he, with eafe, 

Believe we love him beft, who beft can pleafe : 

On him our grofs, dull, common Flatteries pafs; 

( 29 ) 


Ever moft happy when moft made an Afs : 

Heavy to apprehend; though all Mankind 
Perceive us falfe, the Fop, himfelf, is blind. 

Who, doating on himfelf, 

Thinks every one that fees him of his mind. 

Thefe are true Womens Men — here, forc’d to ceafe 
Through want of Breath, not will, to hold her peace; 
She to the Window runs, where fhe had fpy’d 
Her much-efteem’d, dear Friend, the Monkey ty’d: 
With forty Smiles, as many antick Bows, 

As if’t had been the Lady of the Houfe : 

The dirty, chatt’ring Monfter fhe embrac’d; 

And made it this fine tender Speech at laft. 

Kifs me, thou curious Miniature of Man; 

How odd thou art, how pretty, how japan: 

Oh! I could live and die with thee: Then on, 

For half an hour, in Complements fhe ran. 

I took this time to think what Nature meant, 

When this mixt thing into the World fhe fent, 

So very wife, yet fo impertinent. 

One that knows ev’ry thing, that God thought fit 
Shou’d be an Afs through choice, not want of Wit. 
Whofe Foppery, without the help of fenfe, 

Cou’d ne’er have rofe to fuch an excellence. 

Nature’s as lame in making a true Fop 
As a Philofopher; the very Top, 

And Dignity, of Folly we attain 
By ftudious fearch, and labour of the Brain : 

By Obfervation, Counfel, and deep Thought: 

God never made a Coxcomb worth a Groat. 

We owe that Name to Induftry and Arts; 

An eminent Fool muft be a Fool of Parts. 

And fuch a one was fhe; who had turn’d o’er 
As many Books as Men; lov’d much, read more: 
Had a difcerning Wit; to her was known 
Every one’s Fault, or Merit, but her own. 

All the good Qualities that ever bleft 
A Woman fo diftinguifh’d from the reft, 

Except Difcretion only, fhe pofTeft. 

But now Mon Cher , dear Pug, fhe cries, adieu, 

And the Difcourfe, broke off, does thus renew: 

You fmile to fee me, who the World perchance, 

( 3 ° ) 


i ■ oS- 

Miftakes to have fome Wit, fo far advance 
The Intereft of Fools, that I approve 
Their Merit more, than Men of Wit, in love. 

But, in our Sex, too many Proofs there are 
Of fuch whom Wits undo, and Fools repair. 

This, in my time, was fo obferv’d a Rule, 

Hardly a Wench in Town but had her Fool. 

The meaneft, common Slut, who long was grown 
The jeaft, and fcorn, of ev’ry Pit-Buffoon; 

Had yet left Charms enough to have fubdu’d 
Some Fop or other ; fond to be thought lewd. 

Fojier could make an Irifh Lord a Nokes ; 

And Betty Morris had her City Cokes. 

A Woman’s ne’er fo ruin’d, but fhe can 
Be ftill reveng’d on her undoer, Man : 

How loft foe’er, file’ll find fome Lover more, 

A more abandon’d Fool than file a Whore. 

That wretched thing Corinna , who has run 
Through all th’feveral ways of being undone : 
Cozen’d at firft by Love, and living then 
By turning the too dear-bought Cheat on Men — 
Gay were the Hours, and wing’d with Joy they flew, 
When firft the Town her early Beauties knew: 
Courted, admir’d, and lov’d, with Prefents fed; 
Youth in her Looks, and Pleafure in her Bed: 

Till Fate, or her ill Angel, thought it fit 
To make her doat upon a Man of Wit: 

Who found ’twas dull to love above a day; 

Made his ill-natur’d Jeaft, and went away. 

Now fcorn’d of all, forfaken and oppreft, 

She’s a Memento Mori to the reft : 

Difeas’d, decay’d, to take up half a Crown 
Muft mortgage her long Scarf, and Manto Gown ; 
Poor Creature, who unheard of, as a Fly, 

In fome dark hole muft all the Winter lie : 

And want, and dirt, endure a whole half Year, 

That, for one Month, file Tawdry may appear. 

In Eafter - Term file gets her a new Gown; 

When my young Mailer’s Worihip comes to Town: 
From Pedagogue, and Mother, juft fet free; 

The Heir and Hopes of a great Family: 

Who with ftrong Beer, and Beef, the Country rules; 
And ever fince the Conqueft, have been Fools: 

( 3i ) 


*= = = ■" = = ■■ - ===Cg = = = = 3). 

And now, with careful profpedt to maintain 
This Character, left crofting of the Strain 
Shou’d mend the Booby-breed; his Friends provide 
A Coufin of his own to be his Bride: 

And thus fet out 

With an Eftate, no Wit, and a young Wife : 

And the cold Comforts of a Coxcomb’s Life: 

Dunghill and Peafe forfook, he comes to Town, 

Turns Spark, learns to be lewd, and is undone : 

Nothing fuits worfe with Vice than want of fenfe: 

Fools are ftill wicked at their own expence. 

This o’er-grown School-Boy loft Corinna wins ; 

At the firft da£h to make an Afs begins: 

Pretends to like a Man that has not known 
The Vanities or Vices of the Town: 

Frefh in his Youth, and faithful in his Love, 

Eager of Joys which he does feldom prove: 

Healthful and ftrong, he does no pains endure, 

But what the Fair One he adores, can cure. 

Grateful for Favours, does the Sex efteem, 

And libels none for being kind to him. 

Then of the Lewdnefs of the Town complains, 

Rails at the Wits, and Atheifts, and maintains 
’Tis better than good Senfe, than Pow’r, or Wealth 
To have a Blood untainted, Youth, and Health, 

The unbred Puppy, who had never feen 
A Creature look fo gay, or talk fo fine, 

Believes, then falls in love, and then in debt: 

Mortgages all, ev’n to the ancient Seat, 

To buy his Miftrefs a new Houfe for Life : 

To give her Plate, and Jewels, robs his Wife. 

And when to th’height of Fondnefs he is grown, 

’Tis time to poifon him, and all’s her own. 

Thus, meeting in her common Arms his Fate, 

He leaves her Baftard Heir to his Eftate: 

And, as the Race of fuch an Owl deferves, 

His own dull, lawful Progeny he ftarves. 

Nature (that never made a thing in vain, 

But does each Infeft to fome end ordain) 

Wifely provokes kind-keeping Fools, no doubt, 

To patch up Vices Men of Wit wear out. 

( 32 ) 



1 » 

Thus Ihe ran on two hours, fome grains of Senfe 
Still mixt with Follies of Impertinence. 

But now ’tis time I fliou’d fome pity fliow \ 

To Cloe, fince I cannot chufe but know, !• 

Readers muft reap what dulleft Writers fow. / 

By the next Poft I will fuch Stories tell, 

As, join’d to thefe, fhall to a Volume fwell; 

As true as Heaven, more infamous than Hell. 

But you are tir’d, and fo am I. 



Dear Friend , 

I Hear this Town does fo abound 

With faucy Cenfurers, that Faults are found 
With what, of late, we (in Poetick rage) 

Bellowing, threw away on the dull Age. 

But (howfoe’er Envy their Spleens may raife, 

To rob my Brows of the deferved Bays) 

Their Thanks, at leaft, I merit; fince through me 
They are Partakers of your Poetry: 

And this is all I’ll fay in my defence, 

T’obtain one Line of your well-worded Sence, 

I’ll be content t’have writ the Brittijh Prince. 

I’m none of thofe who think themfelves infpir’d, 

Nor write with the vain hope to be admir’d; 

But from a Rule I have (upon long trial) 

T’avoid with care all fort of felf-denial, 

Which way foe’er Defire and Fancy lead, 

(Contemning Fame) that Path I boldly tread; 

And if expofing what I take for Wit, 

To my dear felf a Pleafure I beget, 

No matter though the cens’ring Criticks fret. 

Thefe whom my Mufe difpleafes are at fhrife, 

With equal Spleen againft my courfe of Life, 

The leaft delight of which I’ll not forego, 

For all the flatt’ring Praife Man can beftow. 

If I defign’d to pleafe, the way were then 
To mend my Manners, rather than my Pen: 

3 > ( 33 ) 




The firft’s unnatural, therefore unfit; 

And for the fecond, I defpair of it, 

Since Grace is not fo hard to get as Wit. 

Perhaps ill Verfes ought to be confin’d 
In meer good-breeding, like unfav’ry Wind. 
Were reading forc’d, I fliou’d be apt to think, 
Men might no more write fcurvily than ftink: 

But ’tis your choice, whether you’ll read, or no. 

If likewife of your Smelling it were fo, 

I’d fart juft as I write, for my own eafe, 

Nor fliou’d you be concern’d unlefs you pleafe. 

I’ll own that you write better than I do, 

But I have as much need to write as you. 

What though the Excrements of my dull Brain, 
Flow in a harfli and an infipid ftrain; 

While your rich Head eafes it felf of Wit. 

Muft none but Civet-Cats have leave to fliit? 

In all I write, fliou’d Senfe, and Wit, and Rhyme, 
Fail me at once, yet fomething fo fublime, 

Shall ftamp my Poem, that the World may fee, 

It cou’d have been produc’d by none but me. 

And that’s my end; for Man can wifli no more 
Than fo to write, as none e’er writ before. 

Yet why am I no Poet of the Times? 

I have Allufions , Similies, and Rhymes, 

And Wit; or elfe ’tis hard that I alone, 

Of the whole Race of Mankind fliou’d have none. 
Unequally the partial Hand of Heav’n , 

Has all but this One only Blefling giv’n. 

The World appears like a great Family, 

Whofe Lord, oppreft with Pride and Poverty, 
(That to a few great Bounty he may fliow) 

Is fain to ftarve the num’rous Train below. 

Juft fo feems Providence, as poor and vain, 
Keeping more Creatures than it can maintain : 
Here ’tis profufe, and there it meanly faves, 

And for one Prince it makes ten thoufand Slaves. 
In Wit, alone, ’t has been Magnificent, 

Of which fo juft a fliare to each is fent, 

That the moft Avaricious are content. 

For none e’er thought (the due Divifion’s fuch) 
His own too little, or his Friends’ too much. 

( 34 ) 



- -eg s ?— a* 

Yet moft Men fhow, or find, great want of Wit, 

Writing themfelves, or judging what is writ. 

But I who am of fprightly Vigour full, 

Look on Mankind, as envious, and dull. 

Born to my felf, I like my felf alone; 

And muft conclude my Judgment good, or none: 

For cou’d my Senfe be naught, how fliou’d I know 
Whether another Man’s were good or no. 

Thus I refolve of my own Poetry, 

That ’tis the beft; and there’s a Fame for me. 

If then I’m happy, what does it advance 
Whether to Merit due, or Arrogance P 
Oh, but the World will take offence hereby ! 

Why then the World fhall fuffer for’t, not I : 

Did e’er this faucy World and I agree, 

To let it have its beaftly Will on me? 

Why fliou’d my proftituted Senfe be drawn, 

To ev’ry Rule their mufty Cuftoms fpawn ? 

But Men may cenfure you — ’tis two to one 
Whene’er they cenfure they’ll be in the wrong. 

There’s not a thing on Earth, that I can name, 

So foolifh, and fo falfe, as common Fame : 

It calls the Courtier Knave; the plain Man rude; 

Haughty the Grave; and the Delightful Lewd; 

Impertinent the Brisk ; Morofe the Sad ; 

Mean the Familiar; the Referv’d one Mad. 

Poor helplefs Woman is not favour’d more, 

She’s a fly Hypocrite, or publick Whore, 

Then who the Devil wou’d give this — to be free 
From th’innocent reproach of Infamy. 

Thefe things, confider’d, make me (in defpight 
Of idle Rumour) keep at home and write. 


W Ere I, who to my coft already am, 

One of thofe ftrange, prodigious Creatures Man, 
A Spirit free, to chufe for my own fhare, 

What fort of Flefh and Blood I pleas’d to wear, 

I’d be a Dog, a Monkey or a Bear, 

( 35 ) 



“ "" iSr » 

Or any thing, but that vain Animal, 

Who is fo proud of being rational. 

The Senfes are too grofs ; and he’ll contrive 
A fixth, to contradict the other five: 

And before certain Inftindt, will preferr 
Reafon, which fifty times for one does err — 

Reafon, an Ignis fatuus of the Mind, 

Which leaves the Light of Nature, Senfe behind. 

Pathlefs, and dangerous, wand’ring ways, it takes, 

Through Errour’s fenny Bogs, and thorny Brakes : 

Whilft the mifguided Follower climbs with pain, 

Mountains of Whimfeys, heapt in his own Brain, 

Stumbling from thought to thought, falls headlong down 
Into Doubt’s boundlefs Sea, where like to drown, 

Books bear him up a while, and make him try 
To fwim with Bladders of Philofophy, 

In hopes ftill to o’ertake the skipping Light: \ 

The Vapour dances, in his dazzled fight, L 

Till fpent, it leaves him to eternal night. ) 

Then old Age, and Experience, hand in hand, 

Lead him to Death, and make him underftand, 

After a fearch fo painful, and fo long, 

That all his Life he has been in the wrong. 

Huddled in Dirt, [the] reas’ning Engine lies, 

Who was fo proud, fo witty, and fo wife: 

Pride drew him in, as Cheats their Bubbles catch, 

And made him venture to be made a wretch : 

His Wifdom did his Happinefs deftroy, 

Aiming to know the World he fhould enjoy. 

And Wit was his vain frivolous pretence, 

Of pleafing others at his own expence. 

For Wits are treated juft like Common Whores ; 

Firft they’re enjoy’d, and then kickt out of doors. 

The Pleafure paft, a threatning Doubt remains, 

That frights th’Enjoyer with fucceeding Pains. 

Women, and Men of Wit, are dang’rous Tools, 

And ever fatal to admiring Fools. 

Pleafure allures, and when the Fops efcape, \ 

’Tis not that they’re belov’d, but fortunate; l 

And therefore what they fear, at heart they hate. i 

But now methinks fome formal Band and Beard 
Takes me to task; Come on, Sir, I’m prepar’d: 

Then by your favour, any thing that’s writ 

( 36 ) 


« — ■=& 1 1 

Againft this gibing, gingling knack, call’d Wit, 
Likes me abundantly; but you’ll take care 
Upon this point, not to be too fevere 
Perhaps my Mufe were fitter for this part: 

For I profefs, I can be very fmart 
On Wit , which I abhor with all my heart. 

I long to lafh it, in fome fliarp Eflay, 

But your grand Indifcretion bids me ftay, 

And turns my Tide of Ink another way; 

What Rage ferments in your degen’rate Mind, 

To make you rail at Reafon and Mankind — 

Bleft glorious Man, to whom alone kind Heav’n 
An everlafting Soul hath freely giv’n; 

Whom his great Maker took fuch care to make, 
That from himfelf he did the Image take, 

And this fair Frame in fhining Reafon dreft, 

To dignifie his Nature above Beaft — 

Reafon, by whofe afpiring Influence, 

We take a flight beyond material Senfe, 

Dive into Myfteries, then foaring pierce 
The flaming limits of the Univerfe, 

Search Heav’n and Hell, find out what’s a died there, 
And give the World true grounds of hope and fear? 

Hold, mighty Man, I cry; all this we know, 

From the pathetick Pen of Ingelo, 

From Patrick’s Pilgrim, SUP s Soliloquies, 

And ’tis this very Reafon I defpife, 

This fupernat’ral Gift, that makes a Mite 
Think he’s the Image of the Infinite; 

Comparing his fhort Life, void of all reft, 

To the eternal and the ever Bleft; 

This bufie puzling ftirrer up of doubt, 

That frames deep Myfteries, then finds ’em out, 
Filling with frantick Crouds of thinking Fools, 

The reverend Bedlams, Colleges and Schools; 

Born on whole Wings, each heavy Sot can pierce 
The Limits of the boundlefs Univerfe: 

So charming Ointments make an old Witch fly, 

And bear a cripled Carkafs through the Sky. 

Tis this exalted Pow’r whole Bufinefs lies 
In Nonfenfe and Impoflibilities: 

This made a whimfical Philofopher, 

( 37 ) 


g g g 

Before the fpacious World his Tub prefer: 

And we have many modern Coxcombs, who 
Retire to think, ’caufe they have nought to do. 

But Thoughts were giv’n for Actions Government; 
Where Action ceafes, Thought’s impertinent. 

Our Sphere of Action is Lifes happinefs, 

And he that thinks beyond, thinks like an Afs. 
Thus whilft againft falfe reas’ning I inveigh, 

I own right Reafon, which I would obey; 

That Reafon, which diftinguilhes by Senfe, 

And gives us rules of good and ill from thence; 
That bounds Delires with a reforming Will, 

To keep them more in vigour, not to kill: 

Your Reafon hinders; mine helps to enjoy, 
Renewing Appetites, yours would deftroy. 

My Reafon is my Friend, yours is a Cheat: 

Hunger calls out, my Reafon bids me eat; 

Perverfly yours, your Appetite does mock; 

This asks for food, that anfwers what’s a Clock ? 

This plain diftin&ion, Sir, your doubt fecures; 
’Tis not true Reafon I defpife, but yours. 

Thus, I think Reafon righted: But for Man, 

I’ll ne’er recant, defend him if you can. 

For all his Pride, and his Philofophy, 

’Tis evident Beafts are, in their degree, 

As wife at leaft, and better far than he. 

Thofe Creatures are the wifeft, who attain 
By fureft means, the ends at which they aim. 

If therefore Jowler finds, and kills his Hare 
Better than Meres fupplies Committee Chair; 
Though one’s a Statefman, th’other but a Hound, 
Jowler in Juftice will be wifer found. 

You fee how far Man’s Wifdom here extends: 

Look next if Human Nature makes amends; 

Whofe Principles are moft generous and Juft; 

And to whofe Morals, you wou’d fooner truft. 

Be judge your felf, I’ll bring it to the Teft, 

Which is the bafeft Creature, Man, or Beaft: 

Birds feed on Birds, Beafts on each other prey; 

But fayage Man alone, does Man betray. 

Preft by Neceflity, They kill for Food; 

Man undoes Man, to do himfelf no good. 

( 38 ) 


•3^============== ' 1 g^===== -= 3 « 

With Teeth, and Claws, by Nature arm’d They hunt 
Nature’s allowance, to fupply their want: 

But Man with Smiles, Embraces, Friendfliips, Praife, 
Inhumanely, his Fellows Life betrays, 

With voluntary Pains, works his Diftrefs; 

Not through Neceffity, but Wantonnefs. 

For Hunger, or for Love They bite or tear, 

Whilft wretched Man is ftill in Arms for Fear: 

For Fear he arms, and is of Arms afraid; 

From Fear, to Fear, fucceffively betray’d. 

Bafe Fear, the Source whence his beft Paflions came, 

His boaffced Honour, and his dear-bought Fame, 

The Luffc of Pow’r, to which he’s fuch a Slave, 

And for the which alone he dares be brave : 

To which his various Projects are defign’d, 

Which makes him gen’rous, affable, and kind : 

For which he takes fuch pains to be thought wife, 

And femes his Actions, in a forc’d Difguife: 

Leads a moft tedious Life, in mifery, 

Under laborious, mean Hypocrifie. 

Look to the bottom of his vaft Defign, 

Wherein Man’s Wifdom, Pow’r, and Glory join — 

The Good he adts, the 111 he does endure, 

’Tis all from Fear, to make himfelf fecure. 

Meerly for fafety, after Fame they thirft; 

For all Men would be Cowards if they durft: 

And Honefty’s againft all common fenfe — 

Men muft be Knaves; ’tis in their own defence, 

Mankind’s difhoneft; if they think it fair, 

Amongft known Cheats, to play upon the fquare, 

You’ll be undone 

Nor can weak Truth, your Reputation fave; 

The Knaves will all agree to call you Knave. 

Wrong’d fhall he live, infulted o’er, oppreft, 

Who dares be lefs a Villain than the reft. 

Thus here you fee what Human Nature craves, 

Moft Men are Cowards, all Men fhou’d be Knaves. 

The Difference lies, as far as I can fee, 

Not in the thing it felf, but the degree; 

And all the fubjedt matter of Debate, 

Is only who’s a Knave of the firft Rate. 

( 39 ) 




A LL this with indignation have I hurl’d, 

At the pretending part of the proud World, 
Who fwol’n with felfilh vanity, devife, 

Falfe freedoms, holy Cheats, and formal Lyes 
Over their fellow Slaves to tyrranize. 

But if at all, fo juft a Man there be, 

(At all a juft Man, of that bleft degree) 

Who does his needful flattery dire ft, 

Not to opprefs, and ruine, but proteft; 

Since flattery which way fo ever laid, 

Is ftill a Tax on that unhappy Trade. 

If fo upright a Patriot, you can find, 

Whofe paflions bend to his unbyas’d Mind; 

Who does his Arts* and Policies apply, 

To raife his Country, not his Family ; 

Who boldly fatal, Avarice withftands, 

And tempting Bribes, from Friends corrupting Hands. 

Is there a Mortal who on God relyes ? 

Whofe Life, his Faith, and Doftrine Juftifies? 

Not one blown up, with vain afpiring Pride, 

Who for reproof of Sins, does Man deride : 

Whofe envious Heart with fawcy Eloquence, 

Dares chide at King’s, and rail at Men of fenfe. 

Who in his talking vents more peevifh lies, 

More bitter railings, fcandals, Calumnies, 

Than at a Goffiping, are thrown about, 

When the good Wives get drunk, and then fall out. 
None of that fenfual Tribe, whofe Talents lye, 

In Avarice, Pride, Sloath, and Gluttony, 

Who hunt Preferment, but abhor good Lives, 

Whofe luft exalted, to that height arrives, 

They aft Adult’ry with their Neighbours Wives 
And e’re a fcore of years compleated be, 

Can from the lofty Stage of Honour fee, 

Half a large Parifti their own Progeny. 

Nor doating he who wou’d be ador’d, 

For domineering when at’s hight he’s foared, 

A greater Fop, in bufinefs at rourfcore, 

Fonder of ferious Toyes, affefted more, 

( 4 ° ) 


* "' ' * s^sssssssasssssssstss tt* 

Than the gay glitt’ring Fool at twenty proves, 

With all his noife, his tawdrey Cloaths and Loves. 

But a meek humble Man of modeft fenfe, 

Who preaching peace does practice continence; 

Whofe pious life’s a proof he does believe, 

Mifterious truths, which no Man can conceive. 

If upon Earth there dwell fuch Godlike Men, 

Fie here recant my Paradox to them. 

Adore thofe Shrines of Vertue, Homage pay, 

And with the thinking World, their Laws obey. 

If fuch there are, yet grant me this at leaft, 

Man differs more from Man, than Man from Beaft. 


AS fome brave Admiral , in former War 
XjL Depriv’d of Force, but preft with Courage ft ill, 
Two Rival Fleets appearing from afar, 

Crawls to the top of an adjacent Hill. 

2 . 

From whence (with thoughts full of concern) he views 
The wife, and daring, Conduct of the Fight: 

And each bold Adtion to his Mind renews, 

His prefent Glory, and his paft Delight. 

3 - 

From his fierce Eyes flafhes of Rage he throws, 

As from black Clouds when Lightning breaks away, 
Tranfported thinks himfelf amidft his Foes, 

And abfent yet enjoys the bloody Day. 

4 - 

So when my Days of Impotence approach, 

And I’m by Love and Wine’s unlucky chance, 
Driv’n from the pleafing Billows of Debauch, 

On the dull Shore of lazy Temperance. 

( 4i ) 


• 0 ! 



My Pains at laft fome refpite fhall afford. 

While I behold the Battels you maintain; 

When Fleets of Glaffes fail around the Board, 

From whofe Broad-fides Volley of Wit fhall rain. 

6 . 

Nor fhall the fight of honourable Scars, 

Which my too forward Valour did procure, 
Frighten new-lifted Souldiers from the Wars ; 

Paft Joys have more than paid what I endure. 

7 - 

Shou’d fome brave Youth (worth being drunk) prove nice, 
And from his fair Inviter meanly fhrink, 

’Twould pleafe the Ghoft of my departed Vice, 

If, at my Counfel, he repent and drink. 

8 . 

Or fhou’d fome cold complexion’d Sot forbid, 
With his dull Morals, our Nights brisk Alarms; 
I’ll fire his Blood by telling what I did, 

When I was ftrong, and able to bear Arms. 

9 - 

I’ll tell of Whores attack’d their Lords at home, 
Bawds Quarters beaten up, and Fortrefs won; 
Windows demolifh’d, Watches overcome, 

And handfom Ills by my contrivance done. 


With Tales like thefe I will fuch Heat infpire, 

As to important Mifchief fhall incline; 

I’ll make him long fome ancient Church to fire, 
And fear no Lewdnefs they’re call’d to by Wine. 


Thus Statefman-like I’ll faucily impofe, 

And, fafe from danger, valiantly advife; 
Shelter’d in Impotence urge you to Blows, 
And, being good for nothing elfe, be wife. 

( 42 ) 





N Othing! thou elder Brother ev’n to Shade, 

Thou hadft a being e’re the World was made, 
And (well fixt) art alone, of ending not afraid. 

2 . 

E’re time and place were, time and place were not, 
When primitive Nothing fomething ftraight begot, 
Then all proceeded from the great united What. 

3 * 

Something the gen’ral Attribute of all, 

Sever’d from thee, its foie Original, 

Into thy boundlefs felf muft undiftinguifh’d fall. 

4 - 

Yet fomething did thy mighty Pow’r command, 

And from thy fruitful Emptinefs’s hand, 

Snatch’d Men, Beafts, Birds, Fire, Air, and Land. 

5 ; 

Matter, the wickedft Off-fpring of thy Race, 

By Form affifted, flew from thy embrace, 

And Rebel Light obfcur’d thy reverend dusky Face. 

6 . 

With Form, and Matter, Time and Place did join, 
Body, thy Foe, with thee did Leagues combine,. 

To fpoil thy peaceful Realm, and ruin all thy Line. 

7 * 

But turn-coat Time affiffcs the Foe in vain, 

And, brib’d by thee, aflifts thy fhort-liv’d Reign, 

And to thy hungry Womb drives back thy Slaves again. 

8 . 

Tho’ Myfteries are barr’d from Laick Eyes, 

And the Divine alone, with warrant, pries 
Into thy Bofom, where the Truth in private lies. 

( 43 ) 



9 . 

Yet this of thee the wife may freely fay. 

Thou from the Vertuous nothing tak’ft away, 

And to be part with thee the Wicked wifely pray. 


Great Negative, how vainly wou’d the Wife 
Enquire, define, diftinguifh, teach, devife, 

Didft thou not ftand to point their dull Philofophies ? 


Is, or is not , the two great Ends of Fate, 

And, true or falfe, the fubjedt of debate, 

That perfect, or deftroy, the vaft Defigns of Fate. 


When they have rack’d the Politician's Breaft, 
Within thy Bofom muft fecurely reft, 

And, when reduc’d to thee, are leaft unfafe and beft. 

13 * 

But, Nothing , why does Something ftill permit, 

That facred Monarchs fhould at Council fit, 

With Perfons highly thought, at beft, for nothing fit. 


Whilft weighty Something modeftly abftains, 

From Princes Coffers, and from Statefmen’s Brains, 

And nothing there like ftately Nothing reigns. 

* 5 - 

Nothing, who dwell’ft with Fools in grave difguife, 

For whom they reverend Shapes, and Forms devife, 

Lawn Sleeves, and Furrs, and Gowns, when they like’thee 

1.1 T J 

French Truth, Dutch Prowefs, Brittijh Policy, 

Hibernian Learning, Scotch Civility, 

Spaniards Difpatch, Danes Wit, are mainly feen in thee. 

( 44 ) 


The great Man’s Gratitude to his beffc Friend, 

King’s Promifes, Whores Vows, tow’rds thee they bend, 
Flow fwiftly into thee, and in thee ever end. 


O Mnis enim per fe Divum Natura necejfe eft 
Immortali avo fumma cum pace fruatur, 

Semota ah noftris rebus, fejunftaque longe. 

Nam privata dolore omni, privata periclis, 

Ipfa juts pollens opibus, nihil indign a noftri , 

Nec bene promeritis capitur, nec tangitur Ira.. 

Thus Tranflated 

T He Gods , by right of Nature, muft poffefs 
An everlafting Age of perfect Peace: 

Far off remov’d from us and our Affairs ; 

Neither approach’d by Dangers, or by Cares : 

Rich in themfelves, to whom we cannot add: 

Not pleas’d by Good Deeds ; nor provok’d by Bad. 

Ad Cupidinem 

O Nunquam pro me Jatis indignate Cupido, 

O in corde meo defidiofe Puer! 

Qyid me, qui miles nunquam tua figna reliqui, 

Ladis ? in Caftris vulneror ipje tuts ? 

Cur tua Fax urit, figit turn arcus Amicos ? 

Gloria pugnantes vincere major erat. 

§>jfid ? non iEmonius, quern cufpide perculit, Heros, 
Confojfum medica poftmodo juvit ope ? 

Venator fequitur fugientia, capta relinquit : 

Semper inventis ulteriora petit. 

Nos tua fentimus, populus tibi deditus, arma : 

Pigra reluftanti ceffat in Hofte mantes. 

( 45 ) 


a ’C tS S 1 ===== 

Quid juvat in Nudis hamata recondere tela 
Offibtos ? Of/a mihi nuda relinquit Amor. 

Tot fine amore viri, tot funt fine amove Quell* : 

Hinc tibi cum magna laude triumphus eat. 
Roma, Nifi immenfam Vires promoffet in Urbem , 
Stram.neis effet tunc quoque denja cafis. 

Feffus in acceptos Miles deducitur agros; 

Tutaque depofito pofcitur enfe rudis : 

Longaque fubduflam celant navalia Pinum : 

Mittitur in faltus car cere liber equus. 

Me quoque , qui toties merui fub amore puellas , 
Defundum placide vivere Tempus erat. 

Vive , Deus pofilo fiquis mihi dicat amore , 

Deprecer ; ufque adeo dulce puella malum eft. 
Cum bene pertJfum eft , animique revanuit ardor . 

Nefcio quo mifer * turbine mentis agor. 

Ut rapit in pr*ceps dominum , fpumantia fruftra 
Fr*na retentantem , durior oris equus ; 

Utfubitus prope jam prenfa tellure carinam 
Tangentem portus ventus in alta rapit\ 

Sic me f*pe refert incerta Cupidinis aura : 

Notaque purpureus tela refumit Amor. 

Fige, puer\ pofitis nudus tibiprabeor armis\ 

Hie tibi funt vires , hie tua dextra valet. 

Hue tanquam fuff * veniant jam f ponte fagitt * ; 

Vix ullis pr * me nota pharetra tua eft. 

InfeliXy tota quicunque quiefeere node 

Suftinet, & fomnos premia magna vocat. 

Stulte, quid fomnuSy gelid* nifi mortis imago ? 

Tonga quiefeendi tempora fata dabunt. 

Me modb decipiant voces fallacis amic * : 

Sperando certe gaudia magna fer am. 

Et modb blanditias dicat : modb jurgia ne£iat\ 
S*pe fruar domina\ f*pe repulfus earn. 

Qjq'od dubius Mars eft, per te privigne Cupido eft : 

Et movet exemplo vitricus arma tuo. 

Tu levis es, multoque tuis ventofior alis\ 

Gaudiaque ambigua dafque negafque fide. 

Si tamen exaudis pulchra cum matre Cupido ; 

Indeferta meo peftore regna gere. 

Accedant regno nimium vaga turba Quell * ; 
Ambobus populis fic venerandus eris. 

( 46 ) 






To Love 

O Love! how cold and flow to take my part? 

Thou idle Wanderer about my Heart: 

Why, thy old faithful Souldier, wilt thou fee 
Oppreft in thy own Tents ? They murther me. 

Thy Flames confume, thy Arrows pierce thy Friends. 
Rather on Foes purfue more Noble Ends. 

Achilles Sword would certainly beftow 
A Cure, as certain as it gave the Blow. 

Hunters, who follow flying Game, give o’er 
When the Prey’s caught, hopes ftill lead on before. 

We thine own Slaves feel thy tyrannick Blows, 

Whilfl: thy tame Hand’s unmov’d againfl: thy Foes. 

On Men difarm’d, how can you gallant prove? 

And I was long ago difarm’d by Love. 

Millions of dull Men live, and fcornful Maids: 

We’ll own Love valiant when he thefe invades. 

Rome from each corner of the wide World fnatch’d 
A Laurel, or’t had been to this day thatch’d. 

But the old Souldier has his refting place; 

And the good batter’d horfe is turn’d to Grafs : 

The harraft Whore, who liv’d a Wretch to pleafe, 

Has leave to be a Bawd, and take her eafe. 

For me then, who have truly fpent my Blood 
(Love) in thy Service; and fo boldly flood 
In Cilia's Trenches; were’t not wifely done, 

E’en to retire, and live in peace at home ? 

No might I gain a Godhead to difclaim 

My glorious Title to my endlefs Flame: 

Divinity with fcorn I wou’d forfwear: 

Such fweet, dear, tempting, Devils Women are. 
Whene’er thofe Flames grow faint, I quickly find 
A fierce, black, ftorm, pour down upon my Mind: 
Headlong I’m hurl’d, like Horfemen, who, in vain, 
Their (Fury-flaming) Courfers would reftrain. 

( 47 ) 


■_ fi >= 

As Ships, juft when the Harbour they attain, 

Are (hatch’d by fudden blafts to Sea again : 

So Loves fantaftick Storms reduce my Heart 
Half refcu’d, and the God refumes his Dart. 

Strike here, this undefended Bofom wound, 

And for fo brave a Conqueft be renown’d. 

Shafts fly fo faft to me from ev’ry part, 

You’ll fcarce difcern the Quiver from my Heart. 

What wretch can bear a live-long Night’s dull reft, 

Or think himfelf in lazy (lumbers bleft ? 

Fool is not fleep the Image of pale Death? 

There’s time for reft, when Fate hath ftopt your Breath. 
Me may my foft deluding Dear deceive; 

I’m happy in my Hopes while I believe. 

Now let her flatter, then as fondly chide : 

Often may I enjoy; oft be deny’d. 

With doubtful fteps the God of War does move 
By the Example [of] ambiguous Love. 

Blown to and fro like Down from thy own Wing; 

Who knows when joy or anguifh thou wilt bring ? 

Yet at thy Mother’s and thy Slave’s requeft, 

Fix an eternal Empire in my Breaft : 

And let th’inconftant, charming, Sex, 

Whofe wilful fcorn does Lovers vex, 

Submit their Hearts before thy Throne: 

The VafTal World is then thy own. 


AFter Death nothing is, and nothing Death; 
j£\. The utmoft Limits of a Gafp of Breath. 

Let the ambitious Zealot lay afide 

His Hopes of Heav’n (whofe Faith is but his Pride); 

Let flavifh Souls lay by their Fear, 

Nor be concern’d which way, or where, 

After this Life they (hall be hurl’d: 

Dead, we become the Lumber of the World; 

( 48 ) 


■" — " sa? - — 

And to that Mafs of Matter £hall be fwept, 

Where things deftroy’d, with things unborn are kept; 
Devouring Time fwallows us whole, 

Impartial Death confounds Body and Soul. 

For Hell and the foul Fiend that rules 
The everlafting fiery Goals, 

Devis’d by Rogues, dreaded by Fools, 

With his grim griefly Dog that keeps the Door, 

Are fenfelefs Stories, idle Tales, 

Dreams, Whimfeys, and no more. 


( Written at 12 Years old) 

V Ertues triumphant Shrine! who do ’ft engage 
At once three Kingdoms in a Pilgrimage; 
Which in extatick Duty ftrive to come 
Out of themfelves, as well as from their home: 
Whilft England grows one Camp, and London is 
It felf the Nation, not Metropolis; 

And Loyal Kent renews her Arts agen, 

Fencing her ways with moving Groves of Men; 
Forgive this diftant Homage, which does meet 
Your bleft approach on fedentary feet: 

And though my Youth, not patient yet to bear 
The weight of Arms, denies me to appear 
In Steel before you, yet, Great SIR, approve 
My Manly Wiflies, and more vigorous Love; 

In whom a cold Refpeft were Treafon to 
A Fathers Alhes, greater than to You; 

Whofe one Ambition ’tis for to be known 
By daring Loyalty your Wilmot ' s Son. 

( 49 ) 



3 > 


I Mpia blafphemi fileant concilia vulgi : 

Abfolvo medicos , innocuamque manum. 
CuraJJent alios jacili medicamine Morbos : 

Ulcer a cum veniunt, Ars nihil ipja valet. 

Vultu femineo qu<evis velpujlula vulnus 
Lethale eft , pulchras certior enje necat. 

Mollia vel temeret ft quando mitior ora, 

Evadat forjan jemina. Diva nequat. 

Cui pars eft Anima Corpus, qu<e tota venuftas. 
Forma quipotis eft hac fuperefje jute ? 



( Written at 12 Tears old) 

R Efpite, Great Queen, your juft and hafty Fears l 
There’s no Infection lodges in our Tears. 
Though our unhappy Air be arm’d with Death, 

Yet Sighs have an untainted guiltlefs Breath. 

Oh! ftay a while, and teach your equal Skill 
To underftand, and to fupport our III. 

You that in Mighty Wrongs an Age have fpent, 
And feem’d to have out-liv’d ev’n Banilhxnent: 
Whom traiterous Mifchief fought, its earlieft Prey, 
When to moft Sacred Blood it made its way; 

And did thereby its Black Defign im part, 

To take his Head, that wounded firft his Heart: 
You that unmov’d Great Charles his Ruin ftood, 
When Three. Great Nations funk beneath the Load: 
Then a young Daughter loft, yet Balfam found 
To ftanch that new and frelhly— bleeding Wound : 
And, after this, with fixt and fteddy Eyes 
Beheld your Noble Gloucefter' s Obfequies: 

( 50 ) 



And then fuftain’d the Royal Princefs fall; 

You only can lament her Funeral. 

But you will hence remove, and leave behind 
Our fad Complaints loft in the empty wind; 

Thofe winds that bid you ftay, and loudly rore 
Deftrudtion, and drive back to the firm fhore: 
Shipwreck to fafety, and the Envy fly, 

Of Iharing in this Scene of Tragedy. 

While Sicknefs, from whofe Rage you poll away, 
Relents, and only now contrives your ftay: 

The lately fatal and infedtious 111 
Courts the fair Princefs, and forgets to kill. 

In vain on Fevers Curfes we difpence, 

And vent our Paflion’s angry Eloquence : 

In vain we blaft the Ministers of Fate, 

And the forlorn Phyficians imprecate; 

Say they to Death new Poifons add and Fire; 
Murder fecurely for Reward and Hire ; 

Art’s Bafilisks, that kill whom e’er they fee, 

And truly write Bills of Mortality: 

Who, left the bleeding Corps fliou’d them betray, 
Firft drain thofe vital fpeaking Streams away. 

And will you, by your flight, take part with thefe ? 
Become your felf a third, and new Difeafe ? 

If they have caus’d our lofs, then fo have you, 

Who take your felf and the fair Princefs too. 

For we depriv’d, an equal Damage have 
When France doth ravifti hence, as when the Grave. 
But that your Choice th’Unkindnefs doth improve, 
And Dereliction adds to your Remove. 



S Ome few, from Wit, have this true Maxim got, 
That ’ tie ftill better to be -pleas'd , than not; 

And therefore never their own Torment plot. 

While the malicious Criticks ftill agree, 

To loath each Play they come, and pay, to fee. 

( Si ) 


— — — - — — ^ " > 

The firft know ’tis a meaner part of fence 
To find a Fault, than tafte an Excellence : 

Therefore they praife, and ftrive to like, while thefe 
Are dully vain of being hard to pleafe. 

Poets and Women have an equal Right 
To hate the Dull, who dead to all Delight, 

Feel Pain alone, and have no Joy but Spight, 

’Twas Impotence did firft this Vice begin, 

Fools cenfure Wit, as Old Men rail of Sin : 

Who envy Pleafure which they cannot tafte, 

And good for nothing, wou’d be wife at laft. 

Since therefore to the Women it appears, 

That all the Enemies of Wit are Theirs: 

Our Poet the dull Herd no longer fears. 

Whate’er his Fate may prove, ’twill be his Pride, 

To ftand, or fall, with Beauty on his fide. 


AS Charms are Nonfenfe, Nonfenfe feems a Charm, 
jfV Which hearers of all Judgment does difarm; 

For Songs, and Scenes, a double Audience bring, 

And Doggrel takes, which Smiths in Sattin fing. 

Now to Machines, and a dull Mask you run, 

We find that Wit’s the Monfter you would ftiun, 

And by my troth ’tis moft difcreetly done. 

For fince with Vice and Folly Wit is fed, 

Through Mercy ’tis, moft of you are not dead. 

Players turn Puppets now at your defire, 

In their Mouth’s Nonfenfe, in their Tail’s a Wire, 

They fly through Clouds of Clouts, and Showers of Fire. 
A kind of lofing Loadum in their Game, 

Where the worft Writer has the greateft Fame. 

To get vile Plays like theirs, {hall be our care; 

But of fuch awkward A&ors we dejpair. 

Falfe taught at firft 

Like Bowls ill byafs’d, ftill the more they run, 

They’re further off, than when they firft begun. 

In Comedy their unweigh’d Action mark, 

There’s one is fuch a dear familiar Spark, 

( 52 ) 





' 5 3 ?- 

He yawns as if he were but half awake; 

And fribling for free fpeaking does mi flake ; 

Falfe accent, and negle&ful aftion too — 

They have both fo nigh good, yet neither true, 

That both together, like an Ape’s Mock-face 
By near refembling Man, do Man difgrace. 

Through-pac’d ill A£tors may, perhaps be cur’d; 

Half Players, like Half Wits, can’t be endur’d. 

Yet thefe are they, who durft expofe the Age Major 

Of the great Wonder of the Englifh Stage. Mohtin. 

Whom Nature feem’d to form for your Delight, 

And bid him fpeak, as fhe bid Shakefpear write. 

Thofe Blades indeed are Cripples in their Art, 

Mimick his Foot, but not his fpeaking Part. 

Let them the Tray tor, or Folpone try; 

Could they 

Rage like Cethegus , or like CaJJius die, 

They ne’er had fent to Paris for fuch Fancies, 

As Monfter’s Heads and Merry Andrew's Dances. 

Wither’d, perhaps, not perifh’d we appear, 

But they were blighted, and ne’er came to bear. 

Th’ old Poets drefs’d your Miftrefs Wit before, \ 

Thefe draw you on with an old painted Whore, l 

And fell, like Bawds, patch’d Plays for Maids twice o’er. J 
Yet they may fcorn our Houfe and Adlors too, 

Since they have fwell’d fo high to heftor you. 

They cry, Pox o’ thefe Covent-Garden Men, 

Damn ’em, not one of them but keeps out ten. 

Were they once gone, we for thofe thund’ring Blades 
Shou’d have an Audience of fubftantial Trades, 

Who love our muzzled Boys, and tearing Fellows, 

My Lord, great Neptune, and great Nephew JEolus. 

O how the merry Citizens [are] in Love 

Pfyche, the Goddefs of each Field and Grove. 

He cries I’faith, methinks ’tis well enough; 

But you roar out and cry, ’Tis all damn’d Stuff. 

So to their Houfe the graver Fops repair, 

While Men of Wit find one another here. 

( 53 ) 





W IT has of late took up a trick t’appear 
Unmannerly, or at the beft, fevere: 

And Poets lhare the Fate by which we fall, 

When kindly we attempt to pleafe you all. 

’Tis hard your Scorn fhou’d againft fuch prevail, 

Whofe ends are to divert you, tho’ they fail. 

You Men wou’d think it an ill-natur’d Jeft, 

Shou’d we laugh at you when you do your beft. 

Then rail not here; though you fee reafon for’t: 

If Wit can find it felf no better fport, 

Wit is a very foolifh thing at Court. 

Wit’s bufinefs is to pleafe, and not to fright; 

’Tis no Wit to be alway in the Right; 

You’ll find it none, who dare be fo to night. 

Few fo ill-bred will venture to a Play, 

To fpy out Faults, in what we Women fay. 

For us, no matter what we fpeak, but how: 

How kindly can we fay 1 hate you now ? 

And for the Men, if you’ll laugh at ’em, do; 

They mind themfelves fo much, they’ll ne’er mind you. 
But why do I defcend to lofe a Prayer, 

On thofe fmall Saints in Wit ? the God fits there. 

To the KING. 

To you (Great SIR) my Meflage hither tends, 

From Youth, and Beauty, your Allies and Friends. 

See my Credentials written in my Face. 

They challenge your Protection in this Place; 

And hither come with fuch a force of Charms, 

As may give check ev’n to your profperous Arms. 
Millions of Cupids hovering in the Rear, 

Like Eagles following fatal Troops, appear: 

All waiting for the Slaughter which draws nigh, 

Of thofe bold Gazers who this Night muft die. 

( 54 ) 



Nor can You ’fcape our foft Captivity, 

From which Old Age alone muft fet You free. 

Then tremble at the fatal Confequence, 

Since ’tis well known, for your own part, Great Prince , 

’Gainft us ftill you have made a weak defence. 

Be generous and wife, and take our part: 

Remember we have Eyes, and You a Heart; 

Elfe You may find, too late, that we are things 
Born to kill Vaffals, and to conquer Kings. 

But oh, to what vain Conqueft I pretend! 

While Love is our Commander, and your Friend. 

Our Victory Your Empire more affures; 

For Love will ever make the Triumph Yours. 


The Tenth Satire of the 
Firft Book 

Nempe incompojito dixi pede, etc. . . . 

W ELL, Sir, ’tis granted, I faid D(ryden’s) Rhimes, 
Were ftol’n, unequal, nay dull many times; 
What foolifli Patron, is there found of his, 

So blindly partial, to deny me this ? 

But that his Plays, embroider’d up and down, 

With Wit and Leavening juftly pleas’d the Town 
In the fame Paper, I as freely own. 

Yet having this allow’d, the heavy Mafs, 

That fluffs up his loofe Columns , muft not pafs : 

For by that Rule, I might as well admit, 

C(rown’s) tedious Senfe, for Poetry and Wit. 

’Tis therefore not enough, when your falfe Senfe, 

Hits the falfe Judgement of an Audience: 

Of clapping Fools, affembled in vaft crowd, 

Till the throng’d Play-Houfe crack with the dull load; 
Though ev’n that Talent merits in fome fort, 

That can divert the City and the Court. 

Which blund’ring S(ettle), never cou’d attain, 

And puzling O(tway), labours at in vain. 

But within due proportions circumfcribe 

( 55 ) 


■i 1 — & ' ' — 

What e’re you write, that with a flowing Tide, 

The Style may rife, yet in its rife forbear, 

With ufelefs Words, t’opprefs the weary’d Ear. 
Here be your Language lofty, there more light, 
Your Rhetorick with your Poetry unite: 

For Elegance fake, fometimes allay the Force 
Of Epithets , ’twill foften the difcourfe; 

A jeaft in fcorn points out, and hits the thing 
More home, than the Morojeft Satires fling. 
Shake-fpear and Johnfon did herein excell, 

And might in this be imitated well ; 

Whom refin’d E(theredge), copies not at all, 

But is himfelf, a fheer Original. 

Nor that flow Drudge, in fwift Pindarick ftrains, 
F(latman), who C(owley) imitates with pains, 

And rides a jaded Mufe, whipt with loofe Rains. 
When L(ee), makes temp’rate Scipio , fret and rave, 
And Hannibal , a whining Amorous Slave, 

I laugh, and with the hot-brained Fullian-Fool, 

In B(usby’s) hands, to be well lafht at School. 

Of all our Modern Wits none feems to me, 

Once to have toucht upon true Comedy, 

But hafty S(hadwell), and flow Wicherley. 
S(hadwell’s) unfinifh’d works do yet impart, 

Great proofs of force of Nature, none of Art; 

With juft bold ftrokes he dafhes here and there, 
Shewing great Maftery with little Care ; 

And {corns to varnifh his good touches o’er, 

To make the Fools and Women praife him more. 
But Wicherley , earns hard what e’re he gains, 

He wants no judgement, and he fpares no pains; 
He frequently excells, and at the leaft, 

Makes fewer faults than any of the beft. 

Waller , by Nature, for the Bays defign’d, 

With Force and Fire, and fancy unconfin’d, 

In Panegyricks does excell Mankind. 

He beft can turn, enforce, and foften things, 

To praife great Conquerors, or to flatter Kings. 

For pointed Satyrs I would B(uckhurft) choofe, 
The beft good Man, with the worft natur’d Mufe. 
For Songs and Yerfes, mannerly, obfcene, 

That can ftir Nature up by fpring unfeen, 

And without forcing blufhes pleafe the Queen. 

( 56 ) 


— 1 i 5 C 5 l -- 1 =- 

S(edley) has that prevailing, gentle Art, 

That can with a refiftlefs Charm impart, 

The loofeft Wilhes to the chafteft Heart. 

Raife fuch a Conflict, kindle fuch a Fire 
Betwixt declining Vertue and Defire; 

Till the poor vanquifh’d Mind diffolves away, 

In Dreames all Night, in Sighs and Tears all Day. 

D(ryden), in vain try’d this nice way of Wit, 

For he to be a tearing Blade thought fit, 

To give the Ladies a dry Bawdy bob 
And thus he got the name of Poet Squab. 

But to be juft, ’twill to his praife be found, 

His Excellencies more than faults abound, 

Nor dare I from his facred Temples tear, 

That Laiirel which he beft deferves to wear, 

But does not D(ryden) find ev’n Johnfon dull? 

Fletcher and Beaumont , uncorreft and full, 

Of lewd Lines as he calls ’em ? Shake-fpear’s ftile 
Stiff and affefted; to his own the while, 

Allowing all the juftnefs, that his Pride 
So arrogantly had to thefe deny’d ? 

And may not I have leave impartially, 

To fearch and cenfure D(ryden’s) Works, and try, 

If thefe grofs faults his choice Pen does commit, 

Proceed from want of Judgement or of Wit? 

Or if his lumpifli Fancy does refufe 
Spirit or Grace to his loofe flatten Mufe ? 

Five hundred Verfes ev’ry Morning writ, 

Proves you no more a Poet than a Wit: 

Such fcribbling Authors have been feen before 
Muftapha , the Englifh Princjefs, forty more, 

Were things perhaps compos’d in half an hour, 

To write what may fecurely ftand the TV/?, 

Of being well read over thrice at leaft; 

Compare each Phrafe, examine ev’ry Line, 

Weigh ev’ry Word, and ev’ry Thought refine; 

Scorn all applaufe the vile Rout can beftow, 

And be content to pleafe thofe few who know. 

Canft thou be fuch a vain miftaken thing, 

To wifh thy Works might make a Play-Houfe ring. 

With the unthinking Laughter, and poor praife 
Of Fops and Ladies factious for thy Plays; 

Then lend a cunning Friend to learn thy doom, 

( 57 ) 


■ ca 

From the flirewd Judges of the Drawing Room. 
I’ve no Ambition on that idle fcore, 

But fay with Betty M(orris), heretofore, 

When a great Woman call’d her Bawdy Whore; 

I pleafe one Man of Wit, am proud on’t too, 

Let all the Coxcombs dance to bed to you. 

Should I be troubled when the Pur-blind Knight, 
Who fquints more in his Judgement than his Sight, 
Picks filly faults, and cenfures what I write ? 

Or when the poor-fed Poets of the Town 

For Scraps and coach-room cry my Verfes down? 

I loath the Rabble, ’tis enough for me, 

If S(edley), S(hadwell), S(heppard), W(icherley), 
G(odolphin), B(utler), B(uckhurft), Buckingham), 
And fome few more, whom I admit to name, 
Approve my fenfe, I count their cenfure Fame. 


H AVE you feen the raging Stormy Main 

Tofs a Ship up, then call: her down again? 
Sometimes file feems to touch the very Skies, 

And then again upon the Sand fhe lyes. 

Or have you feen a Bull, when he is jealous, 

How he does tear the ground, and Rores and Bellows ? 
Or have you feen the pretty Turtle Dove, 

When fhe laments the abfence of her love ? 

Or have you feen the Fayries when they fing, 

And dance with mirth together in a Ring ? 

Or have you feen our Gallants keep a Pudder, 

With Fair and Grace, and Grace and Fair Anftruder? 
Or have you feen the Daughter of Apollo, 

Pour down their Rhyming Liquors in a hollow 


In fpungy Brain, congealing into Verfe; 

If you have feen all this, then kifs mine A e. 

( 58 ) 


W HAT pleafures can the gaudy World afford? 

What true delights do’s teeming Nature hoard ? 

In her great Store-houfe, where fhe lays her treafure 
Alas, ’tis all the fhaddow of a pleafure; 

No true Content in all her works are found, 

No follid Joys in all Earth’s fpacious round: 

For Labouring Man, who toils himfelf in vain, 

Eagerly grafping, what creates his Pain. 

How falfe and feeble, nay fcarce worth a Name, 

Are Riches, Honour, Pow’r, and babbling Fame. 

Yet, ’tis for thefe Men wade through Seas of Blood, 

And bold in Mij chief ’, Storm to be withftood: 

Which when obtained, breed but Stupendious Fear, 
Strife, Jealoufies, and deep difturbing care, 

No beam of comfort, not a Ray of Light 

Shines thence, to guide us through Fate’s Gloomy Night; 

But loft in devious Darknefs, there we ftay, 

Bereft of Reafon in an endlefs way; 

Vertue’s the Sollid good, if any be; 

’Tis that creates our true Felicitie; 

Though we defpife, Contemn and caft it by, 

As worthlefs, or our fatal’ft Enemy; 

Becaufe our darling lufts it dare controule, 

And bound the Roveings of the Madding Soul. 

Therefore in garments poor, it ftill appears, 

And fometimes (naked) it no Garment wears; 

Shun’d by the Great, and worthlefs thought by moft, 
Urg’d to be gone, or wifti’d for ever loft; 

Yet is it loath to leave our wretched Coaft. 

But in difguife do’s here and there intrude, 

Striving to conquer bafe Ingratitude : 

And boldly ventures now and then to ftiine, 

So to make known it is of Birth divine; 

But Clouded oft, it like the Lightning plays, 

Looting as foon as feen, its pointed Rays. 

Which Scarcenefs makes thofe that are weak in wit, 

For Virtue’s felf, admire its counterfeit: 

With which darn’d Hippocrites the World delude, 

As we on Indian Glafs, for Gems intrude. 



W HAT doleful cryes are thefe that fright my senfe, 
Sad as the groans of dying innocence! 

The killing Accents now more near approach, 

And the infectious found, 

Spreads and enlarges all around, 

And does all Hearts with grief and wonder touch ! 

The famous Greenhill’s dead! ev’n he, 

That cou’d to us give immortality, 

Is to th’ Eternal filent Groves withdrawn, 

Thofe fullen Groves of Everlafting Dawn; 

Youthful as Flow’rs fcarce blown, whofe opening Leaves, 
A wondrous and a fragrant ProfpeCt gives, 

Of what its Elder Beauties would difplay, 

When it lhou’d flourifh up to ripening May ! 

Witty! as Poets, warm’d with Love and Wine, 

Yet ftill fpar’d Heav’n and his Friend; 

For both to him were facred and divine, 

Nor could he this, no more than that offend. 

Fixt as a Martyr, where he Friendfhip paid, 

And gen’rous as a God! 

Diftributing his Bounties all abroad, 

And foft, and gentle as a Love-sick Maid. 

Great Matter of the Noble Myftery, 

That ever happy knowledge did infpire; 

Sacred as that of Poetry! 

And which the wond’ring world does equally admire! 
Great Nature’s works we do contemn, 

When on his glorious Birth we meditate 

The Face and Eyes, more Darts receiv’d from him, 

Than all the Charms fhe can create: 

The difference is, his Beauties do beget, 

In the Enamour’d Soul, a vertuous heat, 

Whilft Nature’s groffer pieces move, 

In the coarfe Road of common love. 

So bold, yet foft his Touches were, 

So round each part, fo fweet and fair, 



•*^ ==== " f ” ! "" ' ■ " ” ' ' ! ^=g== 

That as his Pencil mov’d Men thought it preft 
The lively imitated Breaft, 

Which yields like Clouds, where little Angels reft! 
The Limbs all ealie, as his temper was, 

Strong as his mind and Manly too; 

Large as his Soul, his fancy was, and new; 

And from himfelf he coppy’d ev’ry grace, 

For he had all that could adorn a Face, 

All that could either Sex fubdue. 

Each Excellence he had, that Youth has in its Pride, 
And all experienc’d Age can teach; 

At once the vig’rous Fire of this, 

And ev’ry Virtue which that can exprefs, 

In all the height that both cou’d reach! 

And yet (alas) in this perfection dy’d! 

Dropt like a Bloffom with a Northern Blaft, 

When all the fcatter’d leaves abroad are call, 

As quick as if his Fate had been in haft! 

So I have feen an unfixt Star, 

Outfhine the reft of all the numerous Train, 

(As bright as that which guides the Mariner) 

Dart fwiftly from its darken’d Sphere 
And ne’re fhall light the World again ! 

Oh why fhould fo much knowledge dye! 

Or with his laft kind Breath , 

Why could he not to fome one Friend bequeath 
The mighty Legacy; 

. But ’twas a knowledge given to him alone, 

That his Eterniz’d name might be, 

Admir’d to all Pofterity, 

By all to whom his grateful name was known ! 

Come all ye fofter Beauties, come ! 

Bring Wreaths of Flow’rs to deck his Tomb, 

Mixt with the difmal Cyprifh and the Yew, 

For he ftill gave your Charmes their due; 

And from the injuries of Age and Time, 

Secur’d the fweetnefs of your prime, 

And beft knew how to adore that fweetnefs too! 
Bring all your mournful Tributes here, 

And let your Eyes a filent forrow wear, 

Till ev’ry Virgin for a while become 
Sad as his Fate, and like his pictures dumb. 

( 61 ) 


I F Rome can pardon Sins, as Romans hold, 

And if thefe Pardons, can be bought and fold, 
It were no Sin, t’adore, and worfhip Gold. 

If they can purchafe Pardons with a Sum, 

For Sins they may commit in time to come, 

And for Sins paft, ’tis very well for Rome. 

At this rate they are happy’ft that have moft, 
They’ll purchafe Heav’n at their own proper coft, 
Alas! the Poor! all that are fo are loft. 

When came this knack, or when did it begin ? 
What Author have they, or whom brought it in ? 
Did Chrift e’er keep a Cuftom-houfe for Sin? 

Some fubtile Devil, without more ado, 

Did certainly this fly invention brew, 

To gull ’em of their Souls, and Money too. 


T O rack and torture thy unmeaning Brain, 

In Satyr's praife to a low untun’d ftrain, 

In thee was moft impertinent and vain. 

When in thy Poem we more clearly fee, 

That Satyr’s of Divine Authority, 

For God made one on Man when he made thee. 

To ftiew there were fome Men, as there are Apes. 

Fram’d for meer Sport, who differ but in fhapes : 

In thee are all thefe contradictions joined, 

That make an Ajs prodigious and refined. 

A lump deform’d and lhapelefs wert thou born. 

Begot in Loves defpit and Natures fcorn; 

And art grown up the moft ungraceful Wight, 

Harfh to the Ear and hideous to the fight, 

Yet Love’s thy buf’nefs, Beauty thy Delight. 

( 62 ) 



— 1 ■ ===g= " ! * ! ' 1 9 o ?" *SSSgSSZS=^gSSSS—2Z& 

Curfe on that filly hour that firft infpir’d, 

Thy madnefs, to pretend to be admired. 

To paint thy grizly Face, to dance, to drefs, 

And all thole awkward Follies that exprefs, 

Thy loathfome Love, and filthy Daintinefs. 

Who needs will be an Ugly 1 Beau-Gar gon. 

Spit at, and fliun’d by ev’ry Girl in Town: 

Where dreadfully Loves Scare-Crow, thou art plac’d 
To fright the tender Flock that long to tafte: 

While ev’ry coming Maid, when you appear, 

Starts back for fhame, and ftrait turns chaft for Fear. 

For none fo poor, or Proftitute have prov’d, 

Where you made Love, t’endure to be belov’d. 

’Twere a labour loft or elfe I would advife. 

But thy half Wit will ne’re let thee be wife. 

Half-witty, and half-mad, and fcarce half-brave, 

Half-honeft (which is very much a Knave.) 

Made up of all thefe halfs, thou canft not pafs, 

For anything intirely but an Afs. 


C RUSHT by the juft contempt his Follies bring 
On his craz’d Head, the Vermin fain wou’d fting. 
But never Satyr did fo foftly bite, 

Or gentle George himfelf more gently write. 

Born to no other, but thy own difgrace, 

Thou art a thing, fo wretched and fo bafe, 

Thou can’ll not ev’n offend but with thy face 
And doft at once a fad example prove, 

Of harmlefs malice and of hopelefs Love. 

All pride! and uglinefs. Oh how loath, 

A naufeous Creature, fo compos’d of both! 

How oft have we thy Cap’ring Perfon feen, 

With difmal look and Melancholly Meen, 

The juft reverfe of Nokes , when he wou’d be, 

Some mighty Heroe , and makes love like thee ! 

Thou art below being laught at out of fpight, 

Men gaze upon thee as a hideous fight, 

And cry, there goes the Melancholly Knight. 

There are fome modeft Fools, we dayly fee, 

( 63 ) 


■ i 1 - -CS 

Modeft and dull, why they are Wits to thee! 

For of all Folly, fure the very Top, 

Is a conceited Ninny and a Fop. 

With Face of Farce joyn’d to a Head Romancy, 
Ther’s no fuch Conceit as your Fool of fancy: 
But ’tis too much on fo difpis’d a Theam, 

No Man wou’d dabble in a dirty Stream: 

The worft that I cou’d write, wou’d be no more, 
Then what thy very Friends have faid before. 


B URSTING with Pride, the loath’d Impoftume fwells, 
Pr — k him, he fheads his Venom ftrait, and fmells; 
But ’tis fo lewd a Scribler, that he writes, 

With as much force to Nature as he fights, 

Harden’d in fhame, ’tis fuch a baffled Fop 
That ev’ry School-boy whips him like a Top : 

And with his Arms, and Head, his Brains fo weak, 

That his ftarv’d fancy is compell’d to take, 

Among the Excrements of others wit, 

To make a ftinking Meal of what they lhit. 

So Swine for nafty Meat to Dunghill run, 

And tofs their gruntlieft Snowts up when they’ve done: 
Againft his Stars the Coxcomb ever ftrives. 

And to be fomething they forbid, contrives. 

With a red Nofe, Splay Foot, and Goggle Eye, 

A Plough Mans looby Meen, Face all awry, 

With ftinking Breath, and ev’ry loathfome mark, 

The Punchinello fets up for a Spark, 

With equal felf conceit too, he bears Arms, 

But with that vile fuccefs, his part performs, 

That he burlefques his Trade, and what is beft 
In others turns like Harlequin in jeft. 

So have I feen at Smithfields wondrous Fair, 

When all his Brother Monfters, flourifti there; 

A Lubbard Elephant divert the Town, 

With making Legs, and fhooting off a Gun. 

Go where he will, he never finds a Friend, 

Shame and derifion all his fteps attend; 

Alike at home, abroad, i’th’ Camp and Court, 

This Knight o’th’ Burning Peftle make us fport. 

( 64 ) 





L ONG time Plain Dealing in the Haughty Town, 
j Wandring about, though in a thread-bare Gown, 
At laft unanimoufly was cry’d down. 

When almoft ftarv’d, file to the Country fled, 

In hopes, though meanly, Hie fliould there be fed, 

And tumble nightly on a Pea-ftraw Bed. 

But Knav’ry knowing her intent, took poft, 

And Rumour’d her approach through every Coaft, 
Vowing her Ruin that fliould be her hoft. 

Frighted at this, each Ruftick fliut his door, 

Bid her be gone, and trouble him no more, 

For he that entertain’d her muft be poor. 

At this grief feiz’d her, grief too great to tell, 

When weeping, fighing, fainting, down fhe fell, 

Whil’s Knavery Laughing, Rung her paffing Bell. 


AGAINST the Charms our Paffions have, 
How weak all humane fkill is ? 

Since they can make a Man a Slave, 

To fuch a Wretch as Phillis. 

Whom that I may defcribe throughout, 
AflSft me Loving Pow’rs, 

I’ll write upon a double Clout, 

And dip my Pen in Show’rs. 

Her look’s demurly impudent, 
Ungainly Beautiful, 

Her Modefty is infolent, 

Her Mirth is pert and dull. 


( 6s ) 


* = = == ===$£& > 

A Proftitute to all the Town, 

And yet with no Man Friends, 

She rails and fcolds when £he lyes down, 

And Curfes loud fhe fends. 

Bawdy in thoughts, precife in words, 

Ill-natur’d and a Whore, 

No part of her ought good affords, 

She’s all a Common-fhore. 


I WENCH as well as others do, 

I’m young, nor yet deform’d, 

My tender Heart, fincere and true, 

Deferves not to be fcorn’d. ' 

Why Phillis then, why will you Trade 
With forty Lovers more ? 

Can I (faid fhe) with Nature ftrive, 

Alas I am, alas I am a Whore. 

Were all my Body larded o’er, 

With Darts of Love fo thick, 

That you might find in ev’ry Pore, 

A Dart of Love did ftick. 

Whilft yet alone my Eyes were free, 

My Heart would never doubt, 

In Am’rous Rage and Extafie, 

To wifh thofe Eyes, to wifh thofe Eyes put out. 


I RISE at eleven, I Dine about two, 

I get drunk before feven, and the next thing I do; 
I fend for my Whore, when for fear of a Clap, 

I dally about her, and fpew in her Lap ; 

There we quarrel, and fcold till I fall afleep, 

When the Jilt growing bold, to my Pocket does creep; 
Then flyly fhe leaves me; and to revenge the affront, 

At once both my Lafs and my Money I want. 

( 66 ) 



— - & 

If by chance then I wake, hot-headed, and drunk 
What a coyl do I make for the lofs of my Punk ? 
I ftorm, and I roar, and I fall in a rage, 

And miffing my Lafs, I fall on my Page : 

Then crop-lick, all Morning I rail at my Men, 
And in Bed I lye Yawning till eleven again. 


H OW now, brave Swain, why art thou thus caft down ? 

Can Amarillis fcorn, or Angry frown, 

The Gay, the Witty, and the Bold deftroy, 

And cut his dayes off in Abortive joy; 

Whilft Sullen grief, fits on his manly Brow, 

And Broods difpaire, to which his Soul dares bow? 

For fhame roufe up, confider well the caufe, 

The worthlefs Reafon, prithee Strephon Paufe, 

And be adviz’d, confider ’tis a Woman, 

A thing fo mean, fo fenfelefs, and fo common; 

That Nature bluffit when firft file made the Sex, 

As good for nothing but the World to vex: 

The peevifli offspring of our humours bad, 

Which gath’ring to one place, that Creature made, 

Ealing us of an Excremental Load, 

Which elfe wou’d have infe&ed all our blood; 

And tainting, our free Souls have kept them back, 

In glorys fearch, and Fames immortal Track. 

Confider this, and all her Charms difpize, 

Unmov’d, repell the lightning of her Eyes: 

Smile when lhe Frowns, Frown when file Smiles, and be 
From her weak Chains for ever after free. 


O NE Day the Am’rous Lyfander, 

By an impatient paffion fway’d, 
Surpriz’d fair Cloris, that lov’d Maid, 
Who could defend her felf no longer; 

All things did with his Love confpire, 

The guilded Planet of the Day, 

( 67) 




— . - 

In his gay Chariot, drawn by Fire, 

Was now defcending to the Sea, 

And left no light to guide the World, 

But what from Cloris brighter Eyes was hurl’d. 

In a lone Thicket made for love, 

Silent as yielding Maid’s confent, 

She with a charming languifhment, 

Permits his force, yet gently ftrove ; . 

Her Hands, his Bofom, foftly meet, 

But not to put him back defign’d, 

Rather to draw him on inclin’d, 

Whilft he lay trembling at her Feet; 

Refiftance, ’tis too late to fhew, 

She wants the pow’r to fay . . . Ah ! what d’you do ? 

Her bright Eyes fweet and yet fevere, 

Where Love and fhame confus’dly ftrive, 

Frefh vigor, to Lifander give; 

And whifp’ring foftly in his Ear, 

She cry’d . . . ceafe . . . ceafe . . . your vain defire, 
Or m call out what would you do ? 

My dearer Honour ev'n to you , 

I cannot . . . muft not give . . . retire , 

Or take that life , whofe chief efl part, 

I gave you with the Conquefi of my Heart. 

But he, as much unus’d to fear, 

As he was capable of Love, 

The bleffed Minutes to improve, 

Kiffes her Lips, her Neck, her Hair! 

Each touch ! her new defires Allarmes ! 

His burning trembling Hand he preft, 

Upon her melting fnowy Breaft, 

While fhe lay panting in his Arms ! 

All her unguarded Beauties lye, 

The Spoils and Trophies of the Enemy. 

And now without refpedt or fear, 

He feeks the Objedt of his Vows. 

His love no modefty allows. 

By fwift degrees, advancing where. 

His daring Hand that Altar feiz’d, 

( 68 ) 


Where Gods of Love do Sacrifice. 

That awful Throne ! that Paradife ! 

Where Rage is tam’d, and Anger pleas’d ? 

That living Fountain, from whofe Trills, 

The melted Soul, in liquid drops diftils! 

Her balmy Lips, encountering his, 

Their Bodies as their Souls they joyn’d, 

Where both in tranfports unconfin’d, 

Extend themfelves upon the Mofs! 

Cloris half dead and breathlefs lay, 

Her Eyes appear’d like Humid light, 

Such as divides the Day and Night, 

Or falling Stars, whofe Fires decay; 

And now no fign of life fhe fhows, 

But what in fhort-breathed fighs, returns and goes. 

He faw how at her length fhe lay, 

He faw her rifing Bofom bare; 

Her loofe thin Robes, through which appear, 

A fhape defign’d for love and play, 

Abandon’d by her Pride and marne: 

She does her fofteft fweets difpence, 

OfF ring her Virgin innocence, 

A Vidim to Loves facred flame. 

Whilft th’ o’re ravifht Shepherd lyes, 

Unable to perform the Sacrifice. 

Ready to tail a thoufand joys, 

The too tranfported, haplefs Swayne, 

Found the vaffc pleafure turn’d to rain : 

Pleafure! which too much love dellroysl 
The willing Garment by he laid, 

And Heav’n all open to his view. 

Mad to pofiefs himfelf he threw, 

On the defencelefs lovely Maidl 
But ohl what envious Gods confpire! 

To fnatch his pow’r, yet leave him the defire! 

Natures fupport without whofe Aid, 
She can no humane being give; 

It felf now wants the Art to live; 

Faintnefs, its flacken’d Nerves invade, 
In vain th’enraged Youth allay'd, 

( 69) 


•I tlfg . TT' . ' i: 1 , SSS — ' ! * 1 " ! ” , " 11 ! - -' " . 

To call his fleeting Vigor back; 

No motion, ’twill from motion take, 

Excefs of love, his love betray’d, 

In vain he toils, in vain commands. 

Th’Infenfible, fell weeping in his Hands. 

In this fo Am’rous cruel ftrife, 

Where Love and Fate were too fevere, 

The poor Lifander in defpair, 

Renounc’d his Reafon with his Life. 

Now all the brisk and active fire, 

That fhould the nobler part inflame, 

And left no fpark for new defire; 

Not all her naked Charmes cou’d move 
Or calme that Rage, that had debauch’d his love. 

Cloris returning from the Trance, 

Which love and foft defire had bred, 

Her tim’rous Hand file gently laid, 

Or guided by defign or chance, 

Upon that Fabulous Priapus , 

That Potent God (as Poets feign) 

But never did young Shepherdefs, 

(Gath’ring of Fern upon the Plain) 

More nimbly draw her Fingers back, 

Finding beneath the verdant Leaves a Snake ; 

Then Cloris her fair hand withdrew, 

Finding that God of her defires, 

Difarm’d of all his pow’rful Fires ; 

And cold as Flow’rs bath’d in the Morning Dew; 

Who can thy Nymphs confufion guefs ? 

The blood forfook the kinder place, 

And ftrew’d with Bluflxes all her Face, 

Which doth difdain and fhame exprefs ; 

And from Lifander’ s Arms file fled, 

Leaving him fainting on the gloomy Bed. 

Like Lightning through the Grove file hyes, 

Or Daphne from the Delphick God ; 

No print upon the Grafly Road, 

She leaves t’inftrudl purfuing Eyes; 

The Wind that wanton’d in her Hair, 

( 7 ° ) 


' " ^ ===g ■■ =5=g==ta» 

And with her ruffled Garments plaid, 

Difcover’d in the flying Maid; 

All that the Gods e’re made of Fair. 

So Vernts when her Love was flain, 

With fear and haft flew o’re the Fatal Plain. 

The Nymphs refentments, none but I, 

Can well imagine and Condole; 

But none can guefs Lif under’ s Soul, 

But thofe who fway’d his Deftiny: 

His filent griefs fwell up to Storms, 

And not one God his fury fpares, 

He curft his Birth, his Fate, his Stars, 

But more the Shepherdeffes Charmes; 

Whofe foft bewitching influence, 

Had damn’d him to the Depth of Impotence. 


N AKED lhe lay, clafpt in my longing Arms, 

I fill’d with Love, and file all over Charms, 

Both equally infpir’d, with eager fire, 

Melting through kindnefs, flaming in defire; 

With Arms , Legs , Lips clofe clinging to embrace, 

She clips me to her Breaft, and fucks me to her Face. 
The nimble Tongue (Love’s leffer Lightning) plaid 
Within my Mouthy and to my thoughts convey’d 
Swift Orders, that I fhould prepare to throw, 

The All-diffolving Thunderbolt below. 

My flutt’ring Soul , fprung with the pointed Kifs, 
Hangs hov’ring o’re her balmy Limbs of Blifs. 

But whilft her bufie hand wou’d guide that part, 
Which fhou’d convey my Soul up to her Heart , 

In liquid Raptures I diffolve all o’re, 

Melting in Love, fuch Joys ne’er felt before. 

A touch from any part of her had don’t, 

Her Hand, her Foot, her very looks had charms upon’t. 
Smiling, fhe chids in a foft murm’ring Noife, 

And fighs to feel the too too hafty Joys; 

When with a Thoufand Kifles, wand’ring o’re 
My panting Breaft, and is there then no more ? 

( 7i ) 

f U JtL 1V1 O 

<us== "'"aSr — " * » 

She cries : All this to Love, and Raptures due, 

Muft we not pay a debt to pleafure too ? 

But I the moft folorne, loft Man alive, 

To fliew my wifht Obedience vainly ftrive, 

I figh alas ! and Kifs, but cannot drive. 

Eager delires, confound my firft intent, 

Succeeding Shame, does more fuccefs prevent, 

And Rage, at laft, confirms me impotent. 

Ev’n her fair Hand, which might bid Heat return 
To frozen Age, and make cold Hermits burn, 

Apply’d to my dead Cinder, warms no more, 

Than Fire to Alhes, cou’d paft Flames reftore. 

Trembling, confus’d, defpairing, limber, dry, 

A wifhing, weak, unmoving lump I ly, 

This Dart of Love, whofe piercing point oft try’d 
With Virgin Blood, a hundred Maids has dy’d. 

Which Nature ftill directed with fuch Art, 

That it through ev’ry Port, reacht ev’ry Heart. 

Stiffly refolv’d, turn’d carelefs I invade, 

Where it eflay’d, nor ought its fury ftaid, 

Where e’re it pierc’d, entrance it found or made. 

Now languid lies, in this unhappy hour, 

Shrunk up, and Saplefs, like a wither’d Flow’r. 

Thou treacherous, bafe, deferter of my flame, 

Falfe to my paffion, fatal to my Fame. 

By what miftaken Magick doft thou prove, 

So true to lewdnefs, fo untrue to Love ? 

What Oyfter, Cinder, Beggar, common Whore, 

Didft thou e’re fail in all thy Life before ? 

When Vice, Difeafe and Scandal lead the way, 

With what officious hafte didft thou obey? 

Like a Rude-roaring Heftor, in the Streets, 

That Scuffles, Cuffs, and Ruffles all he meets ; 

But if his King or Country, claim his Aid, 

The Rafcal Villain, fhrinks and hides his Head : 

E’en fo is thy Brutal Valor difplaid 
Breaks ev’ry Stews, and does each fmall Crack invade, 

But if great Love, the onfet does command, 

Bafe recreant, to thy Prince, thou doft not ftand. 

Worft part of me, and henceforth hated moft, 

Through all the Town, the common rubbing Poft; 

On whom each wretch, relieves her luftful want, 

As Hogs , on Goats , do rub themfelves and grunt, 

( 72 ) 


< - S o ^"~ - ■■ ■ - 

May’ft thou to rav’nous Shankers be a Prey, 

Or in confuming Weepings waft away. 

May Stranguries, and Stone thy Dayes attend. 
May’ft thou not Pifs, who didft fo much offend, 
When all my joyes, did on falfe thee depend. 
And may ten thoufand abler Men agree, 

To do the wrong’d Corinna right for thee. 


Enter Tafander and Siveanthe. The Scene : A Bedchamber. 

Tas. TT'OR Lufty Vigour we kind Nature thank, 

P And yet adore thofe that makes vigor lank; 

Unhappy Morals! whofe fublimeft joy, 

Preys on itfelf, and does itfelf deftroy. 

Siv. Do not Women, Nature’s beft gift defpife, 

For flie that takes you down, will make you rife; 

Though you awhile the Amorous Combat ftiun, 

And feem from Love’s fweet Combate cloy’d to run ; 

Yet you’ll return more vig’rous, and more fierce, 

Than flaming Drunkard, when he’s dy’d in Tierce, 

You but retire as loofing Gamefters do, 

Til they have raifed a ftock to play anew. 

Tas. What pleafure has a Gamefter, if he knows 
When e’er he plays, that he muft always lofe ? 

Siv. What fo you lofe, it ’twere a pain to keep, 

We fay not that our Night’s are loft in fleep; 

What pleafures we in thefe foft Wars employ, 

We do not waft, but to the full enjoy. [ Exit Tas. 

Enter Celia. 

Cel. Madam, methinks thofe fleepy Eyes declare, 

Too lately you have eas’d a Lover’s Care; 

I fear you have with intereft repaid, 

Thofe eager joys, which you Embracing had. 

Siv. With force united, my foft Heart he ftorm’d, 

Like Age he doted, but like Youth perform’d. 

She that alone her Lover can withftand, 

Is more than Woman, or he lefs than Man. 

( 73 ) 


Jr* u ja ivi & 

m ====: = ==== === == = 1 a . 


W HILST happy I triumphant ftood, 

The pride and glory of the Wood, 

My Aromatick Boughs and Fruit, 

Did with all other Trees difpute; 

Had right by Nature to excell, 

In pleafing both the Taft and Smell. 

But to the touch I muft confefs, 

Bore an unwilling Sullenefs : 

My Wealth, like balhful Virgins, I 
Yielding with fome relu&ancy; 

For which my value fhould be more. 

Not giving eafily my ftore. 

My Verdent Branches, all the Year, 

Did an Eternal Beauty wear, 

Did ever young and gay appear, 

Nor needed any Tribute pay, 

For Bounties from the God of Day. 

Nor do I hold Supremacy. 

In all the Wood, or’e ev’ry Tree, 

But ev’n to thofe of my own Race, 

That grew not in this happy place; 

But that in which I glory moft, 

And do myfelf with reafon boft, 

Beneath my fhade the other Day 
Young Phtlocles and Chloris Lay, 

Upon my Root he plac’d her Head, 

And where I grew he made her Bed ; 

Their trembling Limbs, did gently prefs, 

The kind fupporting yielding Mofs ; 

Ne’re half fo bleft, as now to bear, 

A Swayn fo young, a Nymph fo fair. 

My grateful Shade, I kindly lent 
And ev’ry aiding Bough I bent, 

So low as fometimes had the Blifs, 

To rob the Shepherd of a Kifs. 

Whilft he in pleafures far above 
The fenfe of that degree of Love, 

Permitted ev’ry Stealth I made, 

Unjealous of his Rival fhade. 

I faw ’em kindle to defire! 

( 74 ) 

Whilft with foft fighs they blew the Fire! 
Saw the approaches of their joy 
He growing more fierce, and fixe lefs coy! 
Saw how they mingled melting Rays; 
Exchanging Love a thoufand ways: 

Kind was the force on ev’ry fide. 

Her new defires fixe cou’d not hide, 

Nor wou’d the Shepherd be deny’d: 
Impatient he waits no confent, 

But what file gave by languifliment. 

The blefs’d Minute he perfu’d, 

Whilft Love, her Fearful fliame fubdu’d 
And now tranfported in his Armes, 

Yields to the Conqueror all her Charmes. 
His panting Breaft to hers now joyn’d, 
They feaft on Raptures unconfin’d ; 

Vaft and luxuriant, fuch as prove, 

The immortality of Love. 

For who but a Divinity, 

Cou’d mingle Souls to that degree, 

And melt ’em into Extafie; 

Where like the Phoenix both expire, 
Whilft from the Aflies of their Fire, 
Sprung up a new and foft defire, 

Like Charmers, thrice they did invoke 
The God, and thrice new vigour took 
And had the Nymph been half fo kind, 

As was the Shepherd well inclin’d, 

The Myftry had not ended there; 

But Chloris reaflumed her Fear, 

And chid the Swayn for having preft, 
What file (alas) cou’d not refift: 

Whilft he in whom Loves facred flame, 
Before and after was the fame, 

Humbly implores file wou’d forget 
That fault, which he wou’d yet repeat, 
From adfcive joyes with fliame they haft, 

To a reflection on the paft; 

A thoufand times the Covert blifs, 

That did fecure their happynefs ; 

Their gratitude to ev’ry Tree 
They pay, and moft to happy me! 

The Shepherdefs my Bark carreft 

( 75 ) 


fl S B! 11 — "i > 

Whilft he my Root (Loves Pillow) kill, 

And did with lighs their Fate deplore, 

Since I mult Ihelter ’em no more. 

And if before, my joyes are fuch, 

In having feen, and heard fo much; 

My griefs mull be as great and high, \ 

When all abandon’d I mull lye, !• 

Doom’d to a filent Deftiny : J 

No more the Am’rous ftrife to hear, 

The Shepherd’s Vows the Virgins fear; 

No more a joyful looker on, 

Whilft Love’s foft Battle’s loft and won. 

With grief I bow’d my murm’ring Head, 

And all my Chriftal Dew I filed, 

Which did in Chloris pity move — 

Chloris whole Soul is made of Love, 

She cut me down, and did tranflate 
My being to a happier ftate: 

No Martyr for Religion dy’d, 

With half that unconlid’ring pride; 

My top was on the Altar laid, 

Where Love, his fofteft Off’rings paid, 

And was a fragrant Incenfe burn’d; 

My Body into Busks was turn’d. 

Where I ftill guard the facred ftore, 

And of Loves Temple keep the Door. 


A. XT THAT Timon , does old Age begin t’approach, 

V V That thus thou droop’ft under a night’s debauch ? 
Haft thou loft deep to needy Rogues on Tick, 

Who ne’re cou’d pay, and muft be paid next week? 

Tim. Neither alas, but a dull dining Sot, 

Seiz’d me i’th’ Mall , who juft my name had got; 

He runs upon me, cries dear Rogue I’m thine, 

With me fome Wits of thy acquaintance dine. 

I tell him I’m engag’d, but as a Whore 
With modefty enflaves her Spark the more; 

The longer I deny’d, the more he preft, 

At laft I e’ne confent to be his Gueft. 

( 76 ) 


•• ^£ 3 ? > • 

He takes me to his Coach, and as we go, 

Pulls out a Libel of a Sheet or two, 

Infipid, as the praife of th’ Fairy Queens, 

Or S[hadwell’s], unaffifted former Scenes; 

Which he admir’d, and Prais’d at ev’ry Line, 

At laft it was fo fliarp it muft be mine. 

I vow’d I was no more a Wit than he, 

UnpraCtic’d, and unblefs’d in Poetry. 

A Song to Phillis I perhaps might make, 

But never Rhym’d, but for my Miftrifs fake: 

I envy’d no Mans fortune nor his fame. 

Nor ever thought of a revenge fo tame. 

He knew my Style, he fwore, and ’twas in vain 
Thus to deny the Iffue of my Brain. 

Choak’d with his flatt’ry, I no anfwer make, 

But filent leave him to his dear miftake. 

Of a well meaning Fool, I’m moft afraid, 

Who fillily repeats what was well faid. 

But this was not the worft when he came home, 

He askt, are S[edley], B[uckhurst], Sjavile], come? 

No, but there were above Halfwit and Huffe, 

Kickum and Dingboy, Oh ’ts well enough, 

They’re all brave Fellows, cryes mine Hoft, let’s Dine, 

I long to have my Belly full of Wine, 

They’ll write and fight I dare allure you, 

They’re Men, Tam Marte quam Mercurio. 

I faw my errour, but ’twas now too late, 

No means nor hopes appears of a retreat. 

Well, we falute, and each Man takes his Seat. 

Boy (fays my Sot) is my Wife ready yet. 

A Wife good Gods ! a Fob and Bullys too, 

For one poor Meal, what muft I undergo ? 

In comes my Lady flrait, fhe had been fair, 

Fit to give Love, and to prevent defpair, 

But Age, Beauties incureable Difeafe, 

Had left her more defire, than pow’r to pleafe. 

As Cocks will ftrike, although their Spurs be gone, 

She with her old bleer Eyes to fmight begun : 

Though nothing elfe, fhe (in defpight of time) 

Preferv’d the affectation of her prime; 

However we begun, fhe brought in love, 

And hardly from that fubjeCt wou’d remove, 

We chanc’d to fpeak of the French King’s fuccefs; 

( 77 ) 


My Lady wondr’d much how Heav’n cou’d blefs 
A Man, that lov’d two Women at one time ; 

But more how he to them excus’d his Crime. 

She askt Huffe, if Loves flame he never felt? 

He anfwer’d bluntly ... do you think I'm guelt ? 

She at his plainnefs fmil’d, then turn’d to me, 

Love in young Minds preceeds ev’n Poetry. 

You to that paffion can no ftranger be, 

But Wits are given to Inconftancy. 

She had run on I think till now, but Meat 
Came up, and fuddenly fhe took her Seat. 

I thought the Dinner wou’d make fome amends, 

When my good Hoft crys out, y’are all my Friends, 

Our own plain Fare , and the heft Terfe the Bull 
Affords, Til give you, and your Bellies full: 

As for French Kickfhaws, Cellery, and Champoon, 
Ragous and Fricafles, in troth we’ave none, 

Here’s a good Dinner towards thought I, when ftrait 
Up comes a piece of Beef, full Horfman’s weight; 

Hard as the Arfe of M , under which 

The Coachman fweats, as Ridden by a Witch. 

A Dilh of Carrets, each of ’em as long 
As Tool, that to fair Countefs did belong; 

Which her fmall Pillow cou’d not fo well hide, 

But Vifiters his flaming Head efpy’d, 

Pig, Goofe, and Capon follow’d in the Rear, 

With all that Country Bumpkind call good Cheer: 

Serv’d up with Sauces all or Eighty Eight, 

When our touch Youth, wreftled and threw the Weight; 
And now the Bottle briskly flies about, 

Inftead of Ice, wrapt in a cold wet Clowt, 

A brimmer follows the third bit we eat, 

Small Bear becomes our drink, and Wine our meat. 

The Table was fo large, that in lefs fpace, 

A Man might fave fix old Italians place : 

Each Man had as much room as Porter B\lunt\, 

Or Harrifs had in Cullen's Bufhel C , 

And now the Wine began to work, mine Hoft 
Had been a Collonel, we muft hear him boaft 
Not of Towns won, but an Eftate he loft 
For the Kings Service, which indeed he fpent 
Whoreing, and Drinking, but with good intent 
He talkt much of a Plot, and Mony lent 

< 78 ) 


« cS?— 

In CrumwePs time. My Lady £he 
Complain’d our love was coarfe, our Poetry 
Unfit for modeft Ears, fmall Whores and Play’rs 
Were of our Hair-brain’t Youth, the only cares; 

Who were too wild for any virtuous League, 

Too rotten to confummate an intrigue. 

Falkland £he prais’d, and Sucklings eafie Pen, 

And feem’d to taft their former parts agen. 

Mine Hoft drinks to the beffc in Chriftendom, 

And decently my Lady quits the Room. 

Left to our felves, of feveral things we prate, 

Some regulate the Stage, and fome the State; 

Halfwit, cries up my Lord of 0[rrery] 

Ah how well Muflapha, and Z anger dye! 

His fenfe fo little forc’d that by one Line, 

You may the other eafily divine. 

And which is worfe, if any worfe can be. 

He never faid one word of it to me. 

There’s fine Poetry! you’d fwear ’twere Profe, 

So litle on the Senfe, the Rhymes impofe. 

Ram me (fays Dingboy ) in my mind Cot’s nouns, 
E[theredge] writes Airy Songs, and foft Lampoons , 
The beft of any Man ; as for your Nowns, 

Grammer, and Rules of Art, he knows them not, 

Yet writ two talking Plays without one plot. 

Huffe, was for Settle , and Morocco prais’d 
Said rumbling words, like Drums his courage rais’d, 
Whofe broad-built-bulks , the boyfProus Billows bear, 
Zaphee and Sally, Magadore , Oran, 

The fam'd Arzile, Alcazer, Tituan. 

Was ever braver Language writ by Man ? 

Kickum for Crown declar’d, faid in Romance, 

He had out done the very Wits of France. 

Witnefs Pandion, and his Charles the Eighth, 

Where a young Monarch, carelefs of his Fate, 
Though Forreign Troops and Rebels fbock his State, 
Complains another fight afBidls him more 
(Viz.) The Queens Galleys rowing from the fhore: 
Fitting their Oars and Tackling to be gon ; 

Whiljl fporting Waves fmiPd on the rifing Sun. 
Waves fmilling on the Sun ! I am fure that’s new, 
And ’twas well thought on, give the Devil his due, 
Mine Hoft, who had faid nothing in an hour, 

( 79 ) 


- ===== = 

Rofe up and prais’d the Indian Emperour. 

As ij our Old World modefty withdrew , 

And here in private had brought forth a new . 
There are two Lines 1 who but he durft prefume 
To make the old World a withdrawing Room, 
Where of another World fhe’s brought to Bed! 

What a brave Midwife is a Laureat ' s Head! 

But fhame of all thefe Scribblers, what do’e think. 
Will Souches this year any Champoon Drink ? 

Will Turenne fight him ? without doubt fays Huffe, 

If they two meet, their meeting will be rough. 

Sink me (fays Dingboy ) they French Cowards are, 
They pay but, th’ Englifh , Scots and Swifs make War, 
In gawdy Troops, at a review they fhine, 

But dare not with the Germans Battle joyn; 

What now appears like courage, is not fo, 

’Tis a fhort pride, which from fuccefs does grow; 

On their firft blow, they’l fhrink into thofe fears, 
They fhew’d at Creffy, Agincourt , Poy tiers \ 

Their lofs was infamous, Honour fo ftrain’d, 

Is by a Nation not to be regain’d. 

What they were then I know not, now th’are brave, 
He that denyes it, lyes and is a Slave, 

(Says Huffe and frown’d) fays Dingboy .that do I, 

And at that word, at t’others Head let fly 
A greafie Plate, when fuddenly they all 
Together by the Ears in Parties fall. 

Halfwit with Dingboy Joyns, Kickum with Huffe , 

Their Swords were fafe, and fo we let ’m cuff, 

Till they, mine Hoff, and I, had all enough. 

Their rage once over, they begin to treat, 

And fix frefh Bottles muff the peace compleat. 

I ran down flairs, with a Vow never more, 

To drink Beer Glafs, and hear the Heitors roar. 


B EHOLD thefe Woods, and mark my Sweet 
How all thefe boughs together meet! 

The Ceder his fair Arms difplays, 

And mixes branches with the Bayes. 

And lofty Pine dains to defcend, 




The fturdy Oakes do gently bend 
One with another fubt’ly Weaves 
Into one Loom their various leaves ; 

As all ambitious were to be 
Mine and my Phillis canopy! 

Let’s enter and difcourfe our loves ; 
Thefe are, my dear, no tell-tale Groves ! 
There dwell no Pyes, nor Parrots there, 

To prate again the words they hear. 

Nor babbling Eccho, that will tell 
The Neighbouring Hills one fyllable, 
Being enter’d let’s together lye, 

Twin’d like the Zodiacks Gemini! 

How fweet the Flowers do fweeter fmell, 
And all with emulation fwell 
To be thy Pillow! Thefe for thee 
Were meant a Bed, and thou for me, 

And I may with as juft efteem 
Prefs thee, as thou mayft lye on them: 

And why fo coy ? What doft thou fear ? 
There lurks no fpeckled Serpent here. 

No Venomous Snake makes this his Road, 
No Canker, nor the loathfome Toad. 

And yon poor Spider on the Tree, 

Thy Spinfter, will no poyfoner be, 

There is no Frog to leap and fright 
Thee from my Arms, and break delight; 
Nor Snail that o’re thy Coat fliall trace, 
And leave behind a flimy Lace. 

This is the hallowed ftirine of Love , 

No Wafp nor Hornet haunts this Grove, 
Nor Pifmire to make Pimples rife 
Upon thy fmooth and Ivory Thighs. 

No danger in thefe fliades doth lye, 
Nothing that wears a fting, but I : 

And in it doth no Venom dwell, 

Although perchance it make thee fwell. 

Being fet, let’s fport a while my fair, 

I will tie Love knots in thy Hair. 

See Zephyrus through the leaves doth ftray, 
And has free liberty to play, 

And braids thy Locks; And fhall I find 
Lefs favour than a fancy wind ? 

( 81 ) 




*s====s-= =—=— —= ^ ' '"■■■'■ ■ JJ » 

Now let me fit, and fix my Eyes 
On thee, that art my Paradife. 

Thou art my all ; the fpring remains 
In the fair violets of thy Veins: 

And that it is a Summers day, 

Ripe Cherries in thy Lips difplay. 

And when for Autumn I would feek, 

’Tis in the Apples of thy Cheek. 

But that which only moves my fmart, 

Is to fee Winter in thy Heart. 

Strange, when at once in one appear 
All the four feafons of the year ! 

I’le clafp that Neck where fhould be fet 
A rich and Orient Carskanet; 

But Swains are poor, admit of then 
More natural Chains, the Arms of Men. 

Come let me touch thofe Breafts that Swell 
Like two fair Mountains, and may well 
Be ftil’d the Alpes, but that I fear 
The Snow has much lefs whitenefs there. 

But ftay (my love) a fault I fpy 
Why are thefe two fair Fountains dry ? 

Which if they run, no Mufe would pleafe 
To taft of any Spring but thefe. 

And Ganymed employ’d fhou’d be 
To fetch his Jove Neftor from thee. 

Thou fhalt to Nurfe fair Venus fwears, 

To the next Cupd that file bears. 

Were it not then difcreetly done 
To ope one fpring to let two run ? 

Fy, fy, this Belly, Beauty’s mint, 

Blufhes to fee no coyn ftampt in’t. 

Employ it then, for though it be 
Our wealth, it is your Royalty; 

And beauty will have currant grace 
That bears the Image of your face. 

How to the touch the Ivory Thighs 
Veil gently, and again do rife, 

As plyable to the impreffion 
As Virgins Wax, or Barian Stone 
Diflolv’d to foftnefs ; plump and full, 

More white and foft than [Cots all] Wool, 

Or Cotten from the Indian Tree, 

( 82) 


■ i ; > 

Or pretty Silk-worms Hufwifery. 

Thefe on two Marble Pillars rais’d, 

Make me in doubt which fhould be prais’d; 

They or their Columnes moft ; but when 
I view thofe Feet that I have feen 
So nimbly trip it o’re the Lawns, 

That all the Satyrs and the Fawns 
Have flood amaz’d, when they would pafs 
Over the layes, and not a Grafs 
Would feel the weight, nor Rufh, nor Bent, 

Drooping betray which way you went; 

O then I felt my hot delires 

Burn more and flame with double Fires. 

Come let thofe Thighs, thofe Legs, thofe Feet 
With mine in thoufand windings meet. 

And Woven in more fubtile twines 
Than Woodbine, Ivy, or the Vines, 

For when Love fees us circling thus 
He’le like no Arbour more than us. 

Now let us kifs, would you be gone ? 

Manners at leaft allows me one. 

Blufh you at this ? pretty one flay, 

And I will take that kifs away. 

Thus with a fecond, and that too 
A third wipes off; fo will we go 
To numbers that the Stars out-run, 

And all the Atoms in the Sun. 

For though we kifs till Phoebus ray 
Sink in the Seas, and killing flay 
Till his bright Beams return again, 

There can of all but one remain : 

And if for one good manners call, 

In one, good manners, grant me all. 

Are kiffes all ? they but fore-run 
, Another duty to be done. 

What would you of that Minftrel fay 
That tunes his Pipes and will not play ? 

Say what are Bloffoms in their prime, 

That ripen not in Harvefl: time ? 

Or what are Buds that ne’re difclofe 
The long’d for fweetnefs of the Rofe ? 

So kiffes to a Lover’s gueft 
Are invitations, not the feaft. 

( 83 ) 


,rr ~"’"' c£^= *• 


N ATURE, Creations Law, is judg’d by fenfe, 

Not by the Tyrant Confcience, 

Then our commiffion gives us leave to do, 

What youth and pleafure prompts us to : 

For we muft queftion elfe, Heavens great decree, 

And tax it with treachery; 

If things made fweet to tempt our appetite, 

Should with a guilt ftain the delight. 

Higher powers rule us, our felves can nothing do; 

Who made us Love, has made Love Lawful too. 

It was not Love, but Love transform’d to Vice, 

Ravifh’d with envious Avarice, 

Made Women firft impropriate ; all were free, 

Inclofures Mens inventions be. 

Tth’ Golden Age no adtions could be found, 

For trefpafs on my Neighbour’s ground : 

’Twas juft with any Fair to mix our Blood; 

The beft is molt diffiifive good. 

She that confines her Beams to one mans fight, 

Is a dark-Lanthorn to a glorious light. 

Say, does the Virgin-fpring lefs chaff appear 
. Caufe many thirfts are quenched there ? 

Or have you not with the fame odours met, 

When more have fmelt your Violet ? 

The Phoenix is not angry at her Neft, 

Caufe her perfumes make others bleft; 

Though Incenfe to th’ eternal Gods be meant, 

Yet mortals Rival in the fcent. 

Man is the Lord of Creatures, yet we fee 
That all his ValTals Loves are free. 

The fevere Wedlock fetters do not binde 
The Par <T s inflam’d and Amorous mind, 

But that he may be like a Bridegroom led 
Even to the Royal Lyons Bed. 

The Birds may for a year their Loves confine, 

But make new choice each Valentine . 

If our affedtions then more fervile be 

Than are our Slaves, where’s Mans Soveraignty ? 

Why then by pleafing more, fhould you lefs pleafe, 

And fpare the fweets, being more fweet than thefe. 

( 84 ) 



< & = 

If the frefh Trunk have fap enough to give, 

That each infertive branch may live; 

The Gard’ner Grafts not only Apples there, 

But adds the Warden and the Pear, 

The Peach and Apricock together grow, 

The Cherry and the Damfon too, 

Till he hath made by skillful Husbandry 
An intire Orchard of one Tree; 

So left our Paradife perfection want, 

We may as well Inoculate as Plant. 

What’s Confcience but a Bedlams midnight theam? 
Or nodding Nurfes idle dream ? 

So feign’d, as are the Goblins , Elves and Fairies , 

To watch their Orchards and their Dairies. 

For who can tell when firft her reign begun ? 

I’th’ ftate of innocence are none: 

And fince large Confcience (as the Proverb Ihews) 

In the fame fence with bad one goes, 

The lefs the better then, whence this will fall, 

’Tis to be perfect to have none at all: 

Suppofe it be a vertue rich and pure, 

’Tis not for Spring, or Summer fure, 

Nor yet for Autumn ; Love muft have his prime, 

His warmer Heats, and harveft time. 

Till we have flourifti’d, grown, and reap’d our wifhes, 
What Confcience dares oppofe our kilfes ? 

But when times colder Hand leads us near home, 
Then let that Winter Vertue come: 

Froft is all then prodigious, we may do 
What youth and pleafure prompts us to. 


Semper ego Auditor tantum? 

M UST I with Patience ever lilent fit, 

Perplex’d with Fools, who ftill believe they’ve Wit? 
Muft I find ev’ry Place by Coxcombs feiz’d, 

Hear their affeCted Nonfenfe, and feem pleas’d ? 

Muft I meet Henningham where’er I go, 

Arp, Arran, Villain Franck, nay, Poult’ney too ? 

( 85 ) 


— ' c£ S= 

Shall Hewet pertly crawl from Place to Place, 

And fcabby Villiers for a Beauty pafs ? 

Shall Howe and Brandon Politicians prove, 

And Sutherland prefume to be in Love ? 

Shall pimping Dencourt patient Cuckolds blame, 
Lumley and Savage ’gainft the Pope difclaim? 

Who can abffcain from Satire in this Age ? 

What Nature wants I find fupply’d by Rage. 

Some do for Pimping, fome for Treach’ry ufe; 

But none’s made Great for being Good or Wife. 
Deferve a Dungeon, if you would be Great \ 

Rogues always are our Minifters of State ; 

Mean proftrate Bitches, for a Bridewell fit, 

With England's wretched Ifueen muft equal fit. 
Ranelaugh and fearful Mulgrave are preferr’d; 
Virtue’s commended, but ne’er meets Reward. 

May I ne’er be like thefe, I’ll ask no more; 

I would not be the Men, to have the Pow’r. 

Who’d be a Monarch to endure the Prating 
Of Nell and fawcy Oglethorp, in Waiting? 

Who would Southampton’s driv’ling Cuckold be ? 
Who would be York, and bear his Infamy ? 

What Wretch would be Green’s bafe-begotten Son ? 
Who would be James, out-witted and un-done? 
Who’d be like Sunderland, a cringing Knave ? 

Like Halifax wife, like boorifli Pembroke brave ? 
Who’d be that patient Bardifh Shrewsbury ? 

Or who would Frazier’s chatt’ring Mordaunt be ? 
Who’d be a Wit, in Dryden’s cudgell’d Skin ? 

Or who’d be fafe, and fenfelefs , like Tom Thynne? 


A Lampoon. 

C HASTE, Pious, Prudent, C the Second, 

The Miracle of thy Reffcauration, 

May like to that of Quails be reckon’d 
Rain’d on the Ifraelitifh Nation; 

The wilh’d for Blefling from Heav’n fent, 

Became their Curfe and Punilhment. 

( 86 ) 



The Yertues in thee, C inherent, 

Although thy Countenance be an Odd-piece: 
Proves thee as true a God’s Vicegerent 
As e’re was Harry with the Codpiece : 

For Chaftity and Pious Deeds, 

His Grandfire Harry, C exceeds. 

Our Romifh Bondage-breaker Harry , 

Efpoufed half a dozen Wives ; 

C only one refolv’d to marry, 

And other Men’s he never . 

Yet hath he Sons and Daughters more, 

Than e’re had Harry by threefcore. 

Never was fuch a Faiths Defender, 

He like a Politick Prince and pious, 

Gives liberty to Confcience tender, 

And doth to no Religion tye us. 

Jews , Turks, Chriftians , Papifts, he’ll pleafe us, 
With Mofes, Mahomet, or J . 

In all Affairs of Church or State, 

He very zealous is and able, 

Devout at Prayers, and fits up late 
At the Caball and Council-Table ; 

His very Dog at Council Board, 

Sits grave and wife as any Lord. 

Let C his policy no man flout, 

The wifeft Kings have all fome Folly; 

Nor let his piety any doubt; 

J like a Sovereign wife and holy, 

Make young men Judges of the Bench, 

And B fome that love a Wench. 

His Father’s Foes he doth reward, 

Preferving thofe that cutt off’s Head: 

Old Cavaliers the Crown’s beft Guard, 

He lets them ftarve for want of Bread. 
Never was any King endow’d 
With fo much Grace and Gratitude. 

( 87 ) 


. — 

Blood that wears Treafon in his Face, 

Villain compleat in Parfon’s Gown, 

How much is he at Court in Grace 
For ftealing Ormond and the Crown ? 

Since Loyalty does no man good, 

Let’s fteal the King and outdo Blood. 

A Parliament of Knaves and Sots, 

Members by name, you muft not mention, 

He keeps in pay, and buys their Votes, 

Here with a Place, there with a Penfion. 

When to give money he can’t cologue ’um, 

He doth with fcorn prorogue, prorogue ’um. 

But they long fince by too much giving, 

Undid, betray’d, and fold the Nation; 

Making their Memberfhips a Living, 

Better than e’re was Sequeftration. 

God give thee C a Refolution 

To damn the Knaves by Diffolution. 

Fame is not grounded on Succefs, 

Though Victories were Cafar ' s Glory; 

Loft Battels make not Pompey lefs, 

But left them ftiled great in ftory. 

Malicious Fate doth oft devife 
To beat the Brave and fool the Wife. 

C in the firft Dutch War ftood fair 

To have been Sovereign of the Deep ; 

When Opdam blew up in the Air, 

Had not his Highnefs gone to fleep. 

Our Fleet flack’d Sails, fearing his waking, 

The Dutch had elfe been in fad taking. 

The Bergen Bufinefs was well laid, 

Though we paid dear for that Defign : 

Had we not three Days parling ftaid, 

The Dutch Fleet there, C had been thine. 

Though the falfe Dane agreed to fell ’um, 

He cheated us, and faved Skellum. 

( 88 ) 




Had C fweetly choos’d the States, 

By Bergen battle grown more wife, 
And made [’em] as fmall as Rats, 

By their rich Smyrna Fleets Surprize. 
Had haughty Holms but call’d in Spragg, 
Hans had been put into a Bag. 

Mitts, Storms, fliort Victuals, adverfe Winds; 
And once the Navies wife Divifion, 

Defeated C his beft Defigns 

Till he became his Foes Derifion. 

But he had fwing’d the Dutch at Chatham , 
Had he had Ships but to come at ’em. 

Our Blackheath Hoft without difpute, 

Rais’d (put on Board, why no man knows) 

Muft C have render’d abfolute, 

Over his Subjects or his Foes. 

Has not the French King made us Fools, 

By taking Majlricht with our Tools ? 

But C what could thy Policy be, 

To run fo many fad Difafters. 

To join thy Fleet with falfe D’Etrees, 

To make the French of Holland Matters ? 
Was’t Cromwell. , Brother James> or Teague , 
That made thee break the Tripple League ? 

Could Robin Finer have forefeen 

The glorious Triumphs of his Matter, 

The World-Church Statue Gold had been, 
Which now is made of Alabatter: 

But wife men think had it been Wood, 
’Twere for a Bankrupt K too good. 

Thofe that the Fabrick well confider, 

Do of it diver fly difcourfe; 

Some pafs their Cenfure of the Rider, 

Others their Judgement of the Horfe: 
Mott fay the Steed' s a goodly thing, 

But all agree ’tis a lewd K . 

( 89) 



^s Ho S£ ======!= ^^^ == ssi — 

By the Lord Mayor and his grave Coxcombs, 

Free man of London , C is made ; 

Then to Whitehall a Rich Gold Box comes, 
Which was beftow’d on the French Jade. 

But wonder not it fhould be fo, Sirs, 

When Monarchs rank themfelves with Grocers. 

Cringe, Scrape, no more, ye City Fops, 

Leave off your Feafting and fine Speeches. 
Beat up your Drums, fhut up your Shops, 

The Courtiers then will kifs your Breeches. 
Arm’d, tell the Popilh Duke that rules, 

Your’e Free-born Subjefts, not French Mules. 

New Upftarts, Pimps, Baftards, Whores, 
That Locuft-like devour the Land, 

By lhutting up the Exchequer Doors, 
When thither our Money was trapan’d; 

Have render’d C his Reftauration, 

But a fmall Bleffmg to the Nation. 

Then C beware of thy Brother Y[ork] 

Who to thy Government gives Law; 

If once we fall to the old Sport, 

You muffc again both to Breda : 

Where flight of all that would reftore you, 

Grown wife by wrongs, we {hall abhor you. 

If of all Chriftian Blood the Guilt 

Cry loud for Vengeance unto Heaven; 

That Sea by treacherous Lewis fpilt, 

Can never be by God forgiven. 

Worfe Scourge unto his Subje&s, Lord; 

Than Peftilence, Famine, Fire or Sword. 

That falfe rapacious Wolf of France , 

The Scourge of Europe, and his Curfe, 

Who at its Subje&s cry, does dance, 

And ftudy how to make them worfe. 

To fay fuch Kings, Lord, rule by thee, 

Were moft prodigious Blafphemy. 

( 9 ° ) 



Such know no Law but their own Luft, 

Their Subjects Subftance, and their Blood, 

They count it Tribute due and juft, 

Still fpent and fpilt for Subjects good. 

If fuch Kings are by God appointed, 

The D[evil] may be the L[ord’s] Anointed. 

Such Kings curft be the Power and Name, 

Let all the World henceforth abhor ’em; 

Monfters which Knaves facred proclaim, 

And then like Slaves fall down before ’em. 

What can there be in Kings Divine ? 

The moft are Wolves, Goats, Sheep or Swine. 

Then farewell facred Majefty, 

Lets pull all Britifh Tyrants down ; 

Where men are born and ftill live free, 

Here ev’ry Head doth wear a Crown. 

Mankind like miferable Frogs, 

Prov’d wretched, King’d by Storks and Logs. 


Which the King took out of his Pocket. 

P RESERV’D by wonder in the Oak [O] C * 

And then brought in by the Duke of Albemarle 
The firft by Providence, the next all Devil, 

Show’s thour’t a Compound made of Good and Evil — 
The Bad we’ave too long known, the Good’s to come, 
But not expected till the day of Doom; 

Was ever Prince’s Soul fo meanly Poor, 

To be a Slave to every little Whore? 

The Seamens Needle nimbly points the Pole 
But thine ftill turns to every craving Hole; 

Which Wolf-like in that Breaft raw Flefh devours, 

And muft be fed all feafons and all Hours. 

C is the Manlion Houfe where thou doft dwell, 

But thou art fix’d as Tortoife to her fhell, 

Whofe Head peeps out a little now and then 
To take the Air, and then creeps in again. 

( 9 1 ) 


*=*=* — " 3 - 

Strong is thy Luft, in C thou’rt always diving, 

And I dare fay thou pray’ft to Die a S 

How poorly fquanderft thou thy feed away, 

Who fhould get Kings for Nation to obey ? 

But thou Poor Prince fo ufeleffly haft fown it, 

That the Creation is afham’d to own it; 

Witnefs the Royal Lives fprang from the Belly 
Of thy Anointed Princefs Madam Nelly , 

Whofe firft Employment was with open Throat 
To cry frefh Herrings even ten a Groat: 

Then was by Madam Rofs expos’d to Town, 

I mean to thofe who would give half a Crown : 

Next in the Play-Houfe fhe took her degree; 

As Men Commence at Univerfity, 

No Doctors till they’ve Matters been before 
So fhe no Player was, till firft a Whore; 

Look back and fee the People Mad with Rage, 

To fee the Bitch in fuch an Equipage; 

And every Day that they the Monfter fee, 

They let ten thoufand Curfes fly at Thee : 

Aloud in Publick ftreets they ufe thee thus, 

And none dare Check ’em they’re fo Numerous. 

Stopping the Bank in Thee was only Great, 

But in a fubjeft it had been a Cheat. 

To pay thy Debts what Summ cans’t thou advance, 

Now thy Exchequer is remov’d to France, 

T’inrich a Harlot all made up of French , 

Not worthy to be call’d a Whore, but Wench ? 

[ Cleveland] indeed deferves that Noble Name, 

Whofe monftrous Lechery exceeds all Fame; 

The Emprefs Mejf aline was cloy’d with Luft at laft, 

But you could never fatisfie this Beaft: 

[Cleveland] I fay is much to be admir’d, 

Altho’ Ihe ne’re was fatisfi’d or tyr’d. 

Full Forty Men a Day provided for this Whore, 

Yet Like a Bitch fhe waggs her Tail for more; 

Where are the Bifhops now, where is their Bawdy Court ? 

Inftead of Penance they indulge the Sport; 

For {landing in white fheets their Courage cools, 

And’s only fit for French-Men and for Fools. 

O! Heavens! Wer’t thou for this loofe Life preferv’d, 

Are there no Gods, nor Laws to be obferv’d ? 

Niniveh Repented after Forty days; 

( 92 ) 


— ■ ^■= === ■ I n.j « 

Be yet a King, and wear the Royal Bays: 

But Jonas threats will ne’er awaken Thee, 

Repentance is too mean for Majefty. 

Go Practice Heliogabalus's Sin 
Forget to be a Man, and learn to Spin; 

Go Dally with the Women, on their Wheels, 

Till A^ro-like they Pull thee out by th’ Heels : 

Go Read what Mahomet did (that was a thing 
Did well become the Grandeur of a King) 

Who all tranfported with his Miftrefs charms, 

And never pleas’d but in her lovely Arms; 

Yet when his Janizaries wifli’t her Dead, 

With his own hand cut off Irene’s head: 

Make fuch a Pradtife with thy felf as this, 

Then thou may’ffc once more tail of happinefs ; 

Each one will Love Thee and the Parliament 
Will their unkind and ftubborn Votes repent, 

And at your Feet lay open all their Purfes, 

And give you all their Prayers unmix’d with Curfes. 

All this I wifh, altho’ I’m not your Friend, 

Till like a Child you promife to amend; 

If not, you’l find your fubjedts Rugged ftuff, 

But now I think on’t, I have faid enough. 


H USBAND, thou Dull unpitied Mifcreant, 
Wedded to Noife, to Mifery and want: 
Sold an Eternal Vaffal for thy Life, 

Oblig’d to Cherifh and to Hate thy Wife, 
Drudge on till Fifty at thy own Expence, 

Breath out thy Life in one Impertinence. 

Repeat thy Loath’d Embraces every Night, 
Prompted to Adt by Duty, not Delight. 

Chriften thy forward Bantling once a Year, 

And Carefully thy Spurious HTue Rear. 

Go once a week to fee the Brat at Nurfe 
And let the young Impofture drain thy Purfe. 
Hedge Sparrow like, what Cuckows have begot, 
Do thou Maintain, Incorrigible Sot. 

O ! I cou’d Curfe the Pimp (who cou’d do lefs ?) 

( 93 ) 


■■ ' — * 

He’s beneath Pity, and beyond Redrefs. 

Pox on him, let him go, what can I fay ? 

Anathemas on him are but thrown away: 

The Wretch is Marry’ d, and hath known the worft, 

And his great Blefling is, he can’t be Curft. 

Marriage! O Hell and furies name it Not, 

Hence, Hence, ye holy Cheats — a Plot a Plot: 

Marriage ! ’Tis but a Licens’d way to Sin, 

A Noofe to Catch Religious Woodcocks in: 

Or the nickname of Love’s Malicious Fiend, 

Begot in Hell to perfecute Mankind. 

’Tis the Deftroyer of our Peace and Health, 

Mifpender of our Time, our Strength and Wealth, 

The Enemy of Valour, Wit, Mirth, all 
That we can Virtuous, Good, or Pleafant call. 

By Day ’tis Nothing But a Needlefs Noife, 

By Night the Echo of Forgotten Joys: 

Abroad the Sport and Wonder of the Crowd, 

At home the Hourly Breach of what they Vow’d. 

In youth it’s Opium to our Luftfull Rage, 

Which Sleeps a while, but Wakes again in Age. 

It heaps on all Men much but Ufelefs care, 

For with more Trouble they lefs happy are. 

Ye Gods! That Man by his own Slavifh Law 
Should on himfelf fuch Inconvenience draw. 

If he would wifer Nature’s Laws Obey, 

Thofe Chalk him out a far more Pleafant way; 

When lufty youth and fragrant Wine Confpire, 

To fan the Blood into a Generous fire, 

We muft not think the Gallant will endure 
The Puiffant Iffue of his Calenture : 

Nor always in his fingle Pleafures Burn, 

Tho Nature’s Hand-maid fometimes ferves the turn. 

No, he muft have a Sprightly youthful Wench, 

In equal Floods of Love his flames to Quench, 

One that will hold him in her Clafping Arms, 

And in that Circle all his Spirits Charms, 

That with new Motion, and unpra&if’d Art, 

Can raife his Soul and Reinfnare his Heart. 

Hence fpring the Noble, Fortunate and Great, 

Always begot in Paffion and in Heat. 

But the Dull Offfpring of the Marriage Bed, 

What is it but a Human Piece of Lead; 

( 94 ). 



=ggBgggg= . S ^= = " ■ ' ■ — 1 

A Sottifli Lump ingender’d of all 111; 

Begot like Catts, againft their Father’s Will ? 

If it be Baftardiz’d, ’tis doubly Spoil’d 
The Mothers fear’s Intail’d upon the Child. 

Thus whether Illegitimate or Not, 

Cowards and Fools in Wedlock are begot. 

Let no ennabled foul himfelf Debafe 
By Lawful means to Baftardize his Race; 

But if he muft pay Nature’s Debt in kind, 

To Check his eager Paflion, let him find 
Some willing Female out, what tho’ fhe be 
The very Dregs and Scum of Infamy? 

Tho’ Ihe be Linfey Woolfey Bawd and Whore, 

Clofe ftool to Venus, Nature’s Common fhore, 

Impudent, Foolifh, Bawdy and Difeafe, 

The Sunday Crack of Suburb Prentices; 

What then, She’s better then a Wife by half, 

And if thou’rt ftill Unmarried, thou art fafe. 

With Whores, thou cans’t but Venture; what thou’ft Loft, 
May be Redeem’d again with Care and Coft ; 

But a Damn’d Wife by inevitable Fate, 

Deftroys Soul, Body, Credit and Eftate. 


T ELL me, abandon’d Mifcreant, prithee tell, 

What Damn’d Power, invok’d and fent from Hell, 
(If Hell were bad enough) did thee infpire ? 

Haft thou of late embrac’d fome Succubus, 

And uf’d the lewd Familiar for a Mufe ? 

If fo, go, and its vow’d Allegiance fwear, 

Without Prefs Money, be its Volunteer: 

May he who envies Thee deferve thy Fate, 

Deferve both Heaven’s and Mankind’s Scorn and Hate. 
Difgrace to Libels! Foil to every Shame! 

Whom ’tis a Scandal to vouchfafe to name. 

What foul Defcription’s foul enough for Thee, 

Sunk quite below the Reach of Infamy ? 

Thou covet’ft to be lewd, but want’ft the Hit, 

And art all over Devil, but in Wit. 

Weak feeble Strainer at meer Ribaldry, 

( 95 ) 


| . 

Whofe Mufe is impotent to that Degree, 

That muft like Age, be whipt to Lechery. 

Thou Moore-Fields Author, fit for Bawds to quote, 

(If Bawds themfelves with Honour fafe may do’t) 
When Suburb Prentice comes to hire Delight, 

And wants Incentives to dull Appetite, 

There, Punk perhaps may thy brave Works rehearfe, 

F the fenfelefs Thing with Hand and Yerfe. 

Which after fhall, prefer’d to Dreffing-Box, 

Hold Turpentine, and Med’cines for the Pox. 

Or if I may ordain a Fate more fit, 

For fuch foul nafty Excrements of Wit, 

May they condemn’d to th’ Publick Jaques be lent, 
(For me, I’d fear the Piles in Vengeance fent, 

Should I with them profane my Fundament.) 

There, bugger wiping Porters as they S 

And fo thy Book it felf turn Sodomite. 


O F a great Heroin, I mean to tell 

And by what juft degrees her Titles fwell 
To Mrs Nelly, grown from Cinder Nell. 

Much did fhe fuffer, firft on Bulk and Stage, 

From the Black-guard, and Bullies of the Age 
Much more her growing Virtue did fuftain 
While dear Charles Hart , and Buckhurft fu’d in vain 
In vain they fu’d; curs’d be the envious Tongue 
That her undoubted Chaftity wou’d wrong; 

For fliou’d we Fame believe, we then might fay 
That thoufands lay with her as well as they: 

But, Fame thou Ly’ft; for her Prophetick Mind 
Forefaw her Greatnefs, Fate had well defign’d 
And her Ambition chofe to be, before 
A Virtuous Countefs, an Imperial Whore. 

Ev’n in her Native dirt, her Soul was high, 

And did at Crowns, and ftiining Monarchs fly; 
Ev’n while the Cinders rak’d, her fwelling Breaft 
With thoughts of Glorious Whoredom was pofleft : 
Still did fhe Dream (nor cou’d her Birth withftand) 
Of dangling Scepters in her dirty Hand. 

But firft the Basket her fair Arm did fute, 

( 9 6 ) 


= =*£ & - 

Laden with Pippins, and Hefperian Fruit; 

This firft ftep rais’d, to th’ wond’ring Pit Ihe Sold 
The Lovely Fruit, fmiling with ftreaks of Gold. 

Fate now for her, did its whole force engage, 

And from the Pit file’s mounted to the Stage ; 

There in full Luftre, did her Glories Ihine, 

And, long eclips’d, fpread forth their Light Divine, 
There Hart's and Rowley’s Soul fhe did infnare 
And made a King the Rival to a Player. 

The King o’r-comes, and to the Royal Bed 
The Dunghill Off-fpring is in Triumph led : 

Nor let the envious, her firft Rags object 
To her, that’s now in tawdry Gaynefs deck’d; 

Her Merit does from this much greater fhow, 
Mounting fo high, that took her rife fo low. 

Lefs Fam’d that Nelly was, whofe Cuckold’s rage, 

In ten Years Wars did half the World ingage, 

She’s now the darling Strumpet of the Crowd, 

Forgets her State, and talks to them aloud, 

Lays by her Greatnefs, and defcends to prate 

With thofe, 'bove whom file’s rais’d by wondrous Fate: 

True to th’Proteftant Intereft and Caufe, 

True to th’Eftablifh’d Government and Laws; 

The choice delight of the whole Mobile , 

Scarce Monmouth's felf is more belov’d than fhe. 

Was this the caufe that did their Quarrel move, 

That both are Rivals in the Peoples Love? 

No, ’twas her matchlefs Loyalty alone 
That bid Prince Perkin pack up, and begon. 

Ill-bred thou art, fays Prince. Nell does reply, 

Was Mrs. Barlow better Bred, than I ? 

Thus fneak’d away the Nephew, overcome, 

By’is Aunt in Law’s feverer Wit ftruck Dumb. 

Her Virtue, Loyalty, Wit, and noble Mind, 

In the foregoing Dogrel you may find. 

Now for her Piety one touch, and then 
To Rymer I’ll refign my Mufe and Pen : 

’Twas this that rais’d her Charity fo high 
To vifit thofe that did in Durance lie; 

From Oxford Prifon many did fhe free, 

There dy’d her Father, and there glory’d fhe, 

In giving others Life and Liberty. 

* ( 97 ) 



So pious a Remembrance {till {he bore, 

Ev’n to the Fetters that her Father wore. 

Nor was her Mother’s Funeral lefs her Care, 

No coft, no Velvet did the Daughter {pare: 

Fine gilded Schutcheons did the Herfe inrich, 

To celebrate this Martyr of the Ditch; 

Burnt Brandy did in flaming Brimmers flow, 

Drunk at her Funeral; while her well-pleas’d Shade 
Rejoyc’d ev’n in the fober Fields below 

At all the Drunkennefs her Death had made. 

Was ever Child with fuch a Mother bleft ? 

Or ever Mother fuch a Child pofleft? 

Nor muft her Coufin be forgot; preferr’d 
From many years Command in the Black-guard 

To be an Enfign : 

Whofe Tatter’d Colours well do reprefent 
His firft Eftate i’th’ Ragged Regiment. 

Thus we in fliort have all the Virtues feen 
Of the incomparable Madam Guyn : 

Nor wonder others are not with her fhown ; 

She who no equal has, muft be alone. 


T OO long the Wife Commons have been in Debate, 
’Bout Money and Confcience, thofe Trifles of State; 
Whilft dangerous Grievances daily increafe, 

The Subject can’t riot in Safety and Peace, 

Unlefs, as againft Iri fh Cattle before, 

They fhould now make an A ft againft Irifih Whore. 

The Coots Black and White, Clanbrazil and Fox, 

Invade us with Beauty, Impudence, and Pox; 

They carry a Fate which none can oppofe, 

The Lofs of his Heart, or the Fall of his Nofe : 

Should we dully refift, yet would each take upon her, 

To befeech us to do’t, and engage us in Honour. 

Oh! ye Powers above, who of Mortals take care, 

Make Women lefs Cruel, more Sound, or lefs Fair. 

Is it Juft, cruel Fate with Love fhould confpire, 

And our T s be burnt, by our Hearts taking Fire? 

( 9 8 ) 



B ETWIXT Father Patrick and his Highnefs of late 
There happen’d a ftrong and a weighty Debate; 
Religion was the Theme. ’Tis ftrange, but they Two 
Should difpute about that which neither of ’em knew: 
When I dare boldly fay, if the Truth were but known, 
The Weaknefs of Patricks , and Strength of his own, 

He’d have call’d it a Madnefs, and much like a Curfe, 

To have chang’d from a good One, to that which is worfe. 
But the Reafons which made moft his Highnefs to yield, 
And fo willingly quit to St. Patrick the Field; 

Were ... 

Fir ft. Sir , they cheat you, and have yon i'th ’ Lurch , 

Who tell you there can be any more than one Church. 

And, next unto that, he averr’d for a Certain, 

No Footfteps of ours could be found before Martin. 

At which two Reafons, fo deep and profound, 

His Highnefs had like to have fall’n in a Swound: 

But at length he cry’d out, Father Patrick , I find , 

By the fudden Converfion , and Change of my Mind , 

It is not your Reafon , nor Wit , can afford 

Such Strength to your Caufe; ’ tis the Finger o'th ’ Lord: 

For now I remember , he fome where has f aid. 

That by Babes and by Sucklings his Truth is covey' d. 

Thus ended the Difpute ’twixt the Prieft and the Knight; 
In which, to fay Truth, and to do ’em both Right, 

He manag’d the Caufe, as he did the Sea-Fight. 


M ETHINKS, I fee our mighty Monarch ftand, 

His pliant Angle trembling in his Hand, 

Pleas’d with the Sport, good Man, nor does he know, 

His eafie Scepter bends and trembles fo. 

Fine Reprefentative, indeed, of God, 

Whole Scepter dwindles to a Fifhing-Rod. 

Such was Domitian in his Romans Eyes, 

When his Great Godfhip Hoop’d to catching Flies: 

Blefs us ! What pretty Sport have Deities ! 

( 99 ) 


* a* 

But fee, he now does up from Docket come, 

Laden with Spoils of flaughter’d Gudgeons Home, 

Nor is he warn’d by their unhappy Fate, 

But greedily fwallows every Bait; 

A Prey to every Kingjifker of State. 

For how he Gudgeons takes, you have been taught, 

Then lilten now how he himfelf is caught. 

So well, alas ! the fatal Bait is known, 

Which Rowley does fo greedily take down; 

And howe’er weak and flender be the String, 

Bait it with Whore , and it will hold a King, 

Almighty Power of Women ! Oh, how vain 
Are Salique Laws ? for you will ever reign. 

Yet Lawfon, thou whofe Arbitary Sway, 

Our King mult, more than we do him, obey, 

Who fhortly lhall of eafy Charles' s Breaft, 

And of his Empire be at once poffeft. 

Tho’ it appear indeed a glorious Thing, 

To command Power, and to inflave a King; 

Yet, ere the falfe Appearance has betray’d 
A foft, believing, unexperienc’d Maid, 

Oh ! yet conlider, e’er it be too late, 

How near you ftand upon the Brink of Fate. 

Think who they are, who would for you procure 
This great Preferment, to be made a Whore; 

Two Reverend Aunts, renown’ d in Britifh Story, 

For Lull and Drunkenefs with Nell and Lory : 

Thefe, thefe, are they your Fame would facrifice, 

Your Honour fell, and you lhall know the Price. 

My Lady Mary nothing can defign, 

But feed her Luft with what ftie gets for thine: 

Old Richmond making thee a glorious Punk, 

Shall twice a Day with Brandy now be drunk: 

Her Brother Buckingham lhall be reftor’d, 

Nelly a Countefs, Lory be a Lord. 

And fure all Honours Ihould on him be thrown, 

Both for his Father’s Merit, and his own : 

For Dunkirk firft was fold by Clarendon , 

And now Tangier is felling by the Son : 

A barren Queen the Father brought us o’er, 

To make way for the Son to bring a Whore. 

( ioo ) 



A Pindarick 

L ET Ancients boaft no more, 
j Their Lewd Imperial Whore, 

Whole everlafting Luft, 

Surviv’d her Body’s lateft Thruft : 

And when that tranfitory Duft 
Had no more Vigour left in Store, 

„ Was ftill as frefh and adtive, as before. 

Her Glory muft give place, 

To one of Modern Britifh Race, 

Whofe every daily Adt exceeds 
The others moft tranfcendant Deeds : 

She has at length made good, 

That there is Humane Flefli and Blood, 

Even able to out-do, 

All that their loofeft Wifhes prompt them to. 

When file has Jaded quite, 

Her almoffc boundlefs Appetite, 

Cloy’d with choiceft Banquets of Delight, 

She’ll ftill drudge on in taftelefs Vice, 

As if fhe finn’d for Exercife; 

Difabling ftouteft Stallions every Hour, 

And when they can perform no more, 

She’ll rail at ’em, and kick them out of Door. 

Monmouth and Candijh droop, 

As firft did Henningham and Scroop : 

Nay, fcabby Ned looks thin and pale, 

And fturdy Franck himfelf begins to fail; 

But Wo betide him if he does, 

She’ll fet her Jockey on his Toes, 

And he fhall end the Quarrel without Blows. 

Now tell me all ye Powers, 

Who e’er could equal this Lewd Dame of Ours? 

( ioi ) 


»— — & ■ 

Lais her felf, muft yield, 

And vanquiih’d Julia quit the Field: 

Nor can that Princefs , one Day fam’d, 

As Wonder of the Earth, 

For MinotauruP glorious Birth, 

With Admiration any more be nam’d. 
Thefe puny Heroins of Hiftory, 

Eclips’d by her, fhall all forgotten be; 
Whilft her great Name confronts Eternity. 


M ETHINKS I fee you newly rifen 

From your embroider’d Bed and piffing, 
With ftudied Mien, and much Grimace, 

Prefent yourfelf before your Glafs, 

To varnifh and fmooth o’er thofe Graces, 

You rubb’d off in your Night Embraces: 

To fet your Hair, your Eyes, and Teeth, 

And all thofe Powers you conquer with; 

Lay Trains of Love, and State-Intrigues, 

In Powders, Trimmings, and curl’d Wigs : 

And nicely chufe, and neatly fpread, 

Upon your Cheeks the belt French Red. 

Indeed for Whites , none can compare 
With thofe you naturally wear : 

And tho’ her Highnefs much delights 
To Laugh and Talk about your Whites , 

I never could perceive your Grace 
Made ufe of any for your Face. 

Here ’tis your practice all your Art, 

To triumph o’er a Monarch's Heart; 

Tattle, and fmile, and wink, and twink on’t, 

It almoft makes me fpew to think on’t, 

Thefe are your Mafter-ftrokes of Beauty, 

That keep poor Rowley to hard Duty; 

And how can all thefe be underftood, 

By Frail and Am’rous Flefh and Blood ? 

Thefe are the Charms that have bewitch’t him; 
Made him he knows not what to do, 

But loll and fumble here with you. 

( 102 ) 


* '— !-====== = S S ?—'" — 1 

Amongft your Ladies and his Chits, 

At Cards and Council here he fits; 

Yet minds not how they play at either, 

Nor cares he when ’tis walking Weather; 
Bufinefs and Power he has refign’d, 

And all Things to your Mighty Mind. 

Is there a Mittifter of State, 

Or any Treafurer of late, 

That’s fawning and imperious too ? 

He owes his Greatnefs all to you: 

And as you fee juft Caufe to do’t, 

You keep him in, or turn him out. 

Hence ’tis you give us War and Peace , 

Raife Men, disband them, as you pleafe ; 

Take any Penfions, retrench Wages; 

For Petticoats, and lufty Pages: 

Contrive and execute all Laws, 

Suiting the Judges to the Caufe, 

Learn’d Scroggs, and Honeft Jeffries, 

A faithful Friend to you, whoe’er is; 

He made the Jury come in Booty: 

And for your Service, would hang Doughty. 
You govern every Council-Meeting, 

Make the Fools do as you think fitting: 

Your Royal Cully has Command, 

Only from you at Second Hand; 

He does but at the Helm appear, 

Sits there and fleeps, while your Slaves fteer ; 
And you are the bright Northern Star, 

By which they guide this Man of War: 

Yet without doubt they might conduct 

Him better, were you better 

Many begin to think of late, 

His Crown and C ds have both one Date; 

For as they fall, fo falls the State. 

And as his Loins prove loofe and weak, 

The Reins of Government muft break. 




N the Ifle of Great Britain , long fince famous known, 

For breeding the beft in Chriftendom\ 

There reigns, and long may he reign and thrive, 

The eafieft Prince, and beft bred Man alive; 

Him no Ambition moves to feek Renown 
Like the French Fool to wander up and down, 

Starving his Subjects, hazarding his Crown. 

Nor are his high Defires above his Strength; 

His Sceptre and his are of a length; 

And fhe that plays with one, may fway the other, 

And make him little wifer than his Brother. 

I hate all Monarchs, and the Thrones they fit on, 

From the Heftor of France , to the Cully of Britain. 

Poor Prince, thy like the Buffoons at Court, 

It governs thee, becaufe it makes the Sport; 

Tho’ Safety, Law, Religion, Life lay on’t, 

’Twill break through all to make its Way to 

Reftlefs he rolls about from Whore to Whore, 

A Merry Monarch, Scandalous and Poor. 

To Care-well the moft Dear of all thy Dears, 

The fure Relief of thy declining Years; 

Oft he bewails his Fortune and his Fate, 

To love fo well, and to be lov’d fo late. 

For when in her he fettles well his 

Yet his dull gracelefs Buttocks hang an Arfe. 

This you’d believe, had I but Time to tell ye, 

The Pain it cofts to poor laborious Nelly, 

While fhe employs Hands, Fingers, Lips and Thighs, 

E’er fhe can raife the Member fhe enjoys. 


P RIDE, Luft, Ambition, and the People’s Hate, 
The Kingdom’s Broker, Ruin of the State, 
Dunkirk's fad lofs, Divider of the Fleet, 

Tangier's Compounder for a barren Sheet: 

( ) 



^^£ 5 = f 

This Shrub of Gentry, marry’ d to the Crown 
His Daughter to the Heir, is tumbled down ; 

The Grand Defpifer of the Nobles, lies 
Groveling in Duft, as a juft Sacrifice, 

T’appeafe the injur’d King and Nation — 

Who would believe this fudden Alteration ? 

God will revenge too, for the Stones he took 
From Aged Paul’s, to make a Neft for Rook. 

More Cormorants of State, as well as he, 

We fhortly hope in the fame Plight to fee. 

Go on, Great Prince, thy People do rejoyce; 

Methinks I hear the Nation’s total Voice, 

Applauding this Days Adtion to be fuch 
As roafting Rump, or beating up the Dutch . 

Now look upon the wither’d Cavaliers, 

Who, for Reward, have nothing had but Tears: 

Thanks to the Wiltfhire Hog, Son of the Spittle , 

Had they been look’d on, he had had but Little. 

Break up the Coffers of this hoarded Thief 
Three Millions will be found, to make him Chief 
Of Sacrilege, Ambition, Luft, and Pride, 

All comprehended in the Name of [Hyde] 

For which his due Reward, (I’d almoft faid) 

The Nation may moft juftly claim his Head. 


I N all Humanity we crave, 

Our Sovereign may be our Slave; 

And humbly beg, that he may be 
Betray’d by us moft Loyally. 

But if he pleafe once to lay down 
His Scepter, Dignity, and Crown, 

We’ll make him for the Time to come, 

The greateft Prince in Chriftendom. 

The King’s Answer. 

Charles, at this Time having no Need, 

Thanks you as much as if he did. 

( 105) 






B Y Heaven’s! ’twas bravely done! 

Firft, to Attempt the Chariot of the Sun, 

And then to Fall like PJueton. 


S Ternhold and Hopkins had great Qualms, 

When they Tranflated David’s Pfalms, 

To make the Heart full glad : 

But had it been poor David’s Fate, 

To hear thee fing, and them Tranflate, 

By G ’twould have made him Mad. 


H ERE lies a Great and Mighty King, 
Whofe Promife none relies on; 
He never faid a Foolifh Thing, 

Nor ever did a Wife One. 


F AREWELL, falfe Woman ! know I’ll ever be 
A dumb Man to thy Sex, and dead to thee; 
Thy Breath’s infectious, and thy Prefence brings 
To me a Thoufand fharp and bitter Stings. 

Ye Powers above! why did you Woman make 
Without an Angel, and within a Snake ? 

They’re Hells chief Engine, by the Devil made 
To heighten and enlarge his growing Trade; 

. ( io 6 ) 



'& == 1 = > 

The only Fiend on Earth, the Devil’s Friend, 

A Thoufand Souls to Hell they daily fend. 

Methinks I hear the Gods cry out aloud, 

And thefe Black Words came reeling through a Cloud, 

Beware jalfie Woman , know fhe fir ft began 
To Ruin and Undo the State of Man. 

Yet for Revenge I’ll now refolve to be 
A damn’d diffembling Lover, juft like Thee: 

But all my Bufinefs with fo vile a Creature, 

Shall be, as Men with Clofe-ftools, to eafe Nature. 

Bleft is the Man, and happy is his State, 

That loves a Woman at no other Rate. 


I F you’re deceiv’d, it is not by my Cheat, 

For all Difguifes are below the Great. 

What Man or Woman upon Earth can fay 
I ever us’d them well above a Day? 

How is it then that I unconftant am, 

He changes not who always is the fame: 

In my Dear Self I center every Thing, 

My Servants, Friend, my Miftrefs, and My King, 

Nay Heaven and Earth to that one Point I bring. 

Well manner’ d, Honeft, Generous, and Stout, 

Names by dull Fools to plague Mankind found out, 

Should I regard, I muft my felf conftrain, 

And ’tis my Maxim to avoid all Pain. 

You fondly look for what none e’er could find, 

Deceive your felf, and then call me Unkind; 

And by falfe Reafons would my Falfehood prove, 

For ’tis as natural to change as Love; 

You may as juftly at the Sun repine, 

Becaufe alike it does not always fhine: 

No Glorious Thing was ever made to ftay, 

My Blazing Star but vifits, and away; 

As fatal too it finnes, as thofe i’th’ Skies, 

’Tis never feen, but fome great Lady dies : 

The boafted Favour you fo precious hold, 

To me’s no more than changing of my Gold; 

Whate’er you gave, I paid it back in Blifs, 

( i°7 ) 


Then where’s the Obligation, pray, of this ? 

If heretofore you found Grace in my Eyes, 

Be thankful for it, and let that fuffice. 

But Women, Beggars like, Hill haunt the Door, 
Where they’ve received a Charity before. 

Oh happy Sultan! whom we Barbarous call, 

How much refin’d art thou above us all ! 

Who envies not the Joys of thy Serail? 

Thee, like fome God, the trembling Crowd adore, 
Each Man’s thy Slave, and Womankind thy Whore, 
Methinks I fee thee, underneath the Shade 
Of Golden Canopy fupinely laid, 

The crowding Slaves all Silent as the Night, 

But at thy Nod, all adtive as the Light; 

Secure in folid Sloth thou there doll; reign, 

And feel’ft the Joys of Love without the Pain. 

Each Female courts thee with a wilhing Eye, 

While thou with awful Pride walk’ll carelefs by; 

’Till thy kind Pledge at laft marks out the Dame 
Thou fancy’ll moll, to quench thy prefent Flame. 
Then from thy Bed fubmiffive Ihe retires, 

And, thankful for the Grace, no more requires 
No loud Reproach, nor fond unwelcome Sound 
Of Womens’ Tongues, thy Sacred Ears does wound: 
If any do, a nimble Mute llrait ties 
The True-Love’s Knot, and Hops her foolilh Cries. 
Thou fear’ll no Kinfman’s threat’ ning Blade, 

Nor Midnight Ambulhes by Rivals laid : 

While here, with aking Hearts, our Joys we tall, 
Dillurb’d by Swords, like Democles’s Feall. 


R OOM, Room for a Blade of the Town. 

That takes Delight in Roaring, 

Who all Day long rambles up and down, 
And at Night in the Street lies Snoaring. 

That for the Noble Name of Spark 
Does his Companions Rally; 

Commits an Outrage in the Dark, 

Then flinks into an Alley. 


S&— ■ 

To every Female that he meets, 

He fwears he bears Affection, 
Defies all Laws, Arrefts, and Cheats, 
By the Help of a kind Protection. 

When he intending further Wrongs, 
By fome Refenting Cully 
Is decently run through the Lungs 
And there’s an end of Bully. 


AT the Sight of my Phillis, from every Part 
l \ A Spring Tide of Joy does flow up to my Heart 
Which quickens each Pulfe, and fwells ev’ry Vein, 

Yet all my Delights are fhill mingled with Pain ; 

So ftrange a Diftemper fure Love cannot bring, 

To my Knowledge Love was a quieter Thin gs 
So gentle and tame, that he never was known 
So much as to wake me when I lay alone. 

But the Boy is much grown, and fo alter’d of late, 

He’s become a more furious Paffion, than Hate; 

Since by Phillis reftor’d to the Empire of Hearts, 

He has new ftrung his Bow, and fharpen’d his Darts ; 
And ftriCtiy the Rights of his Crown to maintain, 

He wounds ev’ry Heart, and turns ev’ry Brain. 

But my Madnefs, alas ! I too plainly difcover, 

For he is at leaft as much Madman as Lover, 

Who for one cruel Beauty does eafily quit 

All the Nymphs of the Stage, and thofe of the Pit, 

The Joys of Hide-Park, and the Mall’s dear Delight, 
To live Sober all Day, and Chafl: all the Night. 


T HE Heavens caroufe each Day a Cup, 
No wonder Atlas holds her Up. 

The Trees fuck up the Earth and Ground, 
And in their Brown Bowls drink around. 
The Sea too, whom the Salt makes dry, 

( 109 ) 



His greedy Thirft to fatisfy, 

Ten thoufand Rivers drinks, and then 
Grows drunk, and fpews them up again. 
The Sun (and who 10 right as he) 

Sits up all Night to drink the Sea. 

The Moon quaffs up the Sun, her Brother, 
And wifhes fhe could tope another. 

Ev’ry Thing fuddles; then that I 
Is’t any Reafon fhould be dry ? 

Well, I will be content to thirft, 

But too much Drink fhall make me firft. 


H AVE you not in a Chimney feen, 

A fullen Faggot, wet and green, 

How coyly it receives the Heat, 

And at both Ends does fume and fweat? 

So fares it with the harmlefs Maid, 

When firft upon her Back file’s laid; 

But the kind experienc’d Dame 
Cracks, and rejoices in the Flame. 


A Knight delights in Deeds of Arms, 

Perhaps a Lady loves fweet Mufick’s Charms. 
Rich Men in Store of Wealth delighted be, 

Infants love dandling on the Mother’s Knee. 

Coy Maids love Something — nothing I’ll exprefs; 
Keep the First Letters of thefe Lines, and guefs. 

A Satyr. 

Y E facred Nymphs of Lebethra be by 

While you Polymnia prompt my Memory, 

And all the reft infpire my weaker Tongue 
Leaft Woman fhou’d complain I do her wroner. 

( no ) 



Woman that Slave to her own Appetite, 

That does in nothing Juft or Good delight; 

In vain wou’d Man prefcribe Laws to the Fool 
Whole Cruelty and Pride’s her only Rule: 

Who ne’er confiders what is wrong or right, 

But all {he does is mere Defign or Spite; 

When {he ftiou’d run, {he’s apteft to fit ftill, 

Ready to fly to contradict Your Will; 

Her Temper fo extravagant we find 
She hates, or is impertinently kind; 

Wou’d Ihe be grave, £he then looks like a Devil, 

And like a Fool, or Whore, when {he’d be civil; 

Can Smile or Weep be Foolilh or feem Wife, 

Or any thing, fo {he may Tyranize: 

What Ihe will now, anon file will not do, 

Had rather Crofs her felf, than not crofs you. 

She has a pratling Vain and double Tongue, 
Inconftant, Roving, and loves nothing long, 
Imperious Bloody, fo made up of Paffion 
She is the very fire-brand of the Nation. 

Contentious, Wicked, and not fit to Truft, 

And Covetous to fpend it on her Luft; 

Her Paffions are more fierce than Storms of Wind, 
The heavy Yoak, and Burthen of Mankind; 

Where e’er ftie comes, file Strife with her does bring, 
Her Life’s but one intire Goffiping; 

At which with endlefs talking, Drunk Ihe grows 
And round about her Eyes and flanders throws. 
When Ihe is Young, {he whores herfelf for fport 
And when fhe’s old, fhe Bawds for her fupport, 

And in her Bawding no exception makes 
But a good price for her own Daughter takes, 

Who well inftruCted in her Mothers tricks, 

May make her Miftrefs of a Coach and fix ; 

Of the Demureft Saint, {he makes a Bitch, 

Deny you nothing to be great or rich; 

Philters and Charms the Devil and all employ 
Rather than not what {he defires Enjoy. 

She is a Snare, a Shamble and a Stews. 

Her Meat and Sawce Ihe does for Lechery chufe 
And does in Lazinefs delight the more, 

Becaufe by that, Ihe is provok’d to Whore. 

Her Beauty and her Tongue, ferve both one end — 

( in ) 

• 0 ! 


$ £= . > 

Some to enfnare, and then betray her Friend; 

She may defer the Punifhment fhe gives 
But ne’er forget the Injury fhe receives: 

Ingrateful, Treacherous, envioufly Enclin’d — 

Wild Bealls are Tam’d, flouds ealier far confin’d 
Than is her ftubborn and rebellious Mind. 

She exclaims, reproaches one Friend to another 
And fpares not her own Father or her Mother, 

Delights in all the Mifchief fhe can do, 

Breaks all the Bonds of Love and Duty too; 

Falfe to her Promifes, and beft of Friends, 

Oblig’d by nothing but her own bafe Ends ; 

Deludes, Defames you with her fubtle Tricks, 

Till fomething on your Reputation flicks. 

Thefe are her Vertues, and her only Fears, 

Are that fhe fhall not fet you by the Ears; 

To which ill purpofe, her falfe Tongue’s imploy’d, 

If whifpering will not do't fhe’ll talk aloud; 

Will fpare no pains to fpeak in your difpraife 
And can a Mole-hill to a Mountain raife, 

Hide Mifchiefs where they are, find ’em where’s none 
And as time ferves alter her Looks and Tone. 

Woudfl thou on Quickfand for thy fafety walk, 

Converfe with W oman , and believe her Talk, 

Woud’ft thou a Serpent in thy Bofom bear, 

Then hug the Sorcerefs, entertain her there 
If all her Arts and Induflry fhou’d fail, 

To ruine thee, her Malice wou’d prevail; 

If poffible thy Senfes fhe’d furprize, 

And even Cuckold thee before thy Eyes, 

And yet with Modefly the fa£l wou’d paint, 

Has at her beck the Devil and the Saint. 

When the time ferves, fhe’ll make things falfe, feem true, 

And Truths for Falfhoods, wou’d impofe on you 
And by the Serpent taught when Adam Fell, 

Has learnt t’outdo the blackefl Arts of Hell. 

Thefe fad Examples, which I here produce, 

Serve to confirm they will no Crime refufe, 

And that fuch Deeds as Cruelty wou’d fhun 
Have by their Hands, or for their fakes been done. 

Tempted by Bracelets, which K. Tullius wore 
Befides an Itching which fhe had to Whore, 

Tarpeia once the Capitol did fell 



= 111 1 === ====^ ^=========== == • =& • 

To the paid Foe, by whofe own Sword fhe fell 
And for her Treafon was rewarded well. 

Hellen that follow’d the Adulterer, 

’Twixt Greece and Italy fomented War; 

For twice five Years the deadly feud had burn’d 
When conquer’d Troy was into Afhes turn’d. 

Semiramis , whofe Hands in Blood were cloy’d 
With Murthering all the Men fhe had enjoy’d 
To fet the petty Luxuries off the more, 

For Nimcs burn’d, who ftabb’d th’ inceftuous Whore. 

The cruel Bellides one Night did flay, 

The unhappy Bridegroom [s] on their Bofom lay; 

But here a Miracle I muft declare, \ 

The only Mercy to the Sex we hear, J- 

One of the fifty did her Husband fpare. > 

Such are the Mercies which we are to Truft, 

So dangerous is a Womans Hate and Luft. 

Rebecca did with Venfon Ijaac treat, 

Women feem kindeft, when they mean to cheat; 

And fo the poor Dim-fighted Man deceiv’d 
And EJau of the Blefling fhe bereav’d; 

Our Mother Eve, to pleafe her liquorifh Taft \ 

Did out of Paradice old Adam caft, !■ 

And they’ll all help to Damn us at the laft. ) 

Shepperds I do conjure you by my Love, 

And by the Rural Gods of every Grove, 

As you defire your tender Flocks fhou’d thrive \ 

And you your felves in peace and fafty Live, J- 

That thofe bafe Cattel from your Herds you drive. / 

Theftilis, Philips, and inconftant Chloric , 

Narea, Galatea and Lycoris : 

Let ’em live like the unregarded Throng, 

No more the fubjedt of your Verfe and Song, 

On whofe injuftice, you in vain Exclaim’d. 

What Woman e’er had Grace to be reclaim’d ? 

I now grown old, by long Experience Wife, \ 

Can fet things paft, to come before your Eyes !• 

And from their Cheats, can pluck off the difguife. / 


( 1 13 ) 


W OMAN was made Man's Sovereignty to Own, 
And he as Monarch, was to rule alone; 

She was his Vaflal made, to Dread 

The Angry Frowns of Man, her Lord and Head. 

Heaven did to him his Power Delegate, 

O’er all the Univerfe he made him great; 

His Power did the Largeft Scepter fway, 

The whole Creation did his Laws Obey. 

No Limits there were fet to his Commands, 

Tygers and Lions lick’d his Sacred Hands, 

And Salvage Monfters gloried in his Bands. 

The Legiflative Power was fixt in him, 

Juft Man, till W oman tempted him to fin. 

The Sun no fooner had Began his Courfe, 

Spreading his Gaudy Beams o’er th’ Univerfe; 
Nature her felf was hardly full awake; 

The Planets did their Motion’s rarely make; 

The Azure Orb, in which there’s finely fet, 

The Glitt’ring Stars, Scarce knew their Architedt; 
Air, W> ater , Earth, and Fire did hardly find 
Themfelves pure Elements, and were inclin’d 
To mix in Compofition of each kind. 

Man fcarce had feen the firft Refplendent Light, 

E’er W oman brought forth everlafting Night; 
Damn’d Pride invited her at firft to fin, 

Ambition then, the Devil ufher’d in. 

Thofe, for ten Thoufand more have inlets made. 
And now fhe’s Miftrefs of the Devils Trade, 

She’ll Tempt, Lie, Cozen, Swear, Betray and Cheat; 
Hell’s Blackeft Art Ten Thoufand times Repeat. 

She will no Longer in fubjeftion ftand, 

But Man muft truckle to her harfh Command. 

Toff’d with Tempeftuous ftorms of Haughty Pride, 
Diforder’d Motions, all her Paflions Guide, 

Till Ihe deftroys her Loving Lord and Bride. 

How many fad Examples too we find 
Of Hufband Murder’d by the female kind, 

Such are th’ Effefts of their afpiring Mind. 

No Laws nor Goodnefs, could her Thoughts deter, 
And Satan was foreftall’d in feeing her; 

( 114 ) 



- ^ . 1 1 

For all Diviner Edicts out fhe flew, 

And fwell’d with Curfed Pride, no Compafs knew. 

Such is the Rage of her Infefted Mind, 

She Damns the Race and ftock of Poor Mankind; 

And Stifling Brimftone is the fweeteft fcent, 

That Burns, whilffc Devils guard her Sable Tent, 

Refolved to Execute and ne’er Repent, 

Whate’er his wicked Malice can invent. 

Since Heavens Sacred Laws cannot Reftrain 

Thy Will, and threat’n’d Vengeance is in Vain, 

Since to live Peaceful is thy Greateffc Pain; 

Proceed, and then you’ll Queen of Devil’s Reign. 

A Paradox 

T HOU mighty Princefs lovely Queen of H 

Whofe Monarchy the Braveft Men Controuls, 
Shut up in Awful and Majeftick State 
How Doft thou make thy Poor adorers wait; 

Referv’d as Prefter John and feldom feen 
As the moft fhily kept Sultana Queen ; 

Thou Crown of Senfe nay more fuperlative 
Thou very Quinteffence of all the Five, 

No Civet Cat had ever fuch a fmell, 

Thy Effence does all other fweets excell; 

How is our Relifti by thy Taft Encreaft 
When this one Bit is more then a Whole Feaft ! 

Beauty of Beauties, darling of the Eye; 

The Face is but a Mark to hit thee by, 

Thou art the fpot of Cupid’s Archery, 

Whether your Ornamental Locks you wear, 

Or go like Eajlern Beauties fmooth and Bare; 

Whether full grown the manly Beard appears, 

Or Virgin Lips Show fewer Hairs than Years. 

Yet all true Beauty Shines, as on a Throne, 

In her full Splendor from thy fight alone; 

To pleafe thy Friends, and to Confute thy Foes, 

Thou haft a Mouth beyond fam’d Cicero' s. 

A Mouth whofe filent Rhetorick affords 

( 115) 



More Strong Perfwafives then a Tally’s words. 
’Twas fuch a Mouth did Paris more Convince, 
Than Juno’s Power or Pallas’ s Eloquence. 

’Twas fuch a Mouth Achilles did Perfwade, 

And Hercules to Live in Mafquerade, 

Which all the force of Arms cou’d nere have made. 
’Twas fuch a Mouth taught Anthony to fcorn 
The Glorious name to which that Prince was born; 
To fuch perfwafxons mighty Julius gave, 

That Crown th ’Egypitain army could not fave, 

And of a Conqueror became a Slave. 

Still there Remains one fenfe which we may call, 
One that is all the Reft, is more than all ; 

Who can defcribe thy more than pleafing touch, 
That is a mighty task, for me too much, 

Who fcarce am known to her, of whom I write, 
And had but once the honour of her fight. 

None can her charming Vertues duly tell, 

But he who comes infpir’d from her own well, 
Whofe Vertues does all Helicon’ s excel!. 


F RUITION was the Queftion in Debate, 

Which like fo hot a Cafuift I ftate, 

That fhe my Freedom urg’d as my Offence, 

To teach my Reafon to fubdue my Senfe; 

But yet this Angry Cloud, that did proclaim 
Volleys of Thunder, melted into Rain ; 

And this Adulterate Stamp of being Nice, 

Made feigned Vertue but a Bawd to Vice; 

For, by a Compliment that’s feldom known, 

She thrufts me out, and yet invites me Home; 

And thefe Denials but advance Delight, 

As Prohibition fharpens Appetite ; 

For the kind Curtain railing my Efteem, 

To wonder at the opening of the Scene, 

When of her Breaft her Hands the Guardians were, 
Yet I falute each fullen Officer; 

Tho’, like the flaming Sword before my Eyes, 

(n 6) 


‘ ft * — 1 === *— , ., = =sa >» 

They block the Paffage of my Paradife; 

Nor could thefe Guardian Hands fo guard the Coin, 

But Love, where’ t cannot purchafe, may purloin: 

For tho’ her Breafts are hid, her Lips are Prize 
To make me rich beyond my Avarice; 

Yet my Ambition my AfFedion fed, 

To conquer both the White Rofe and the Red. 

Th’ Event prov’d true, for on the Bed fhe fate, 

And feem’d to Court what {he had feem’d to Hate; 

Heat of Refiftance had increas’d her Fire, 

And weak Defence is twin’d to ftrong Defire. 

What unkind Influence cou’d interpofe, 

Where two fuch Stars did in Conjunction clofe? 

Only too hafty Zeal my Hopes did fpoil, 

Preffing to feed her Lamp, I fpent my Oil; 

And that (which moft Reproach upon me hurl’d,) 

Was dead to her, gives Life to all the World; 

Nature’s chief Prop, and Motion’s primeft Source, 

In me loft both their Vigour and their Force. 

Sad Conqueft, when it is the Vidor’s Fate; 

Like prudent Corporations, had we laid 
A common Stock by, we’ad improv’d our Trade; 

But as a prodigal Heir, I fpent by th’by, 

What Home direded, would ferve her and I, 

When next in fuch Aflaults I chance to be, 

Give me more Vigour, lefs Adivity; 

For Love turns impotent, when ftrain’d too high, 

This very Cordial makes him fooner die, 

Evaporates in Flame the Fire so great; 

Love’s Chemiftry thrives beft with equal Heat. 


I NSULTING Beauty, you mifpend 
Thefe Frowns upon your Slave; 
Your Scorn againft fuch Rebels bend, 
Who dare with Confidence pretend, 
That other Eyes their Hearts defend 
From all the Charms you have. 

( ”7 ) 


' ■ ■ C£g » 

Your conqu’ring Eyes fo partial are, 

Or Mankind is fo dull, 

That while I languifh in Defpair, 

Many proud fenfelefs Hearts declare, 

They find you not fo killing Fair, 

To wifh you Merciful. 

They an inglorious Freedom boaft; 

I triumph in my Chain, 

Nor am I unreveng’d tho’ loft; 

Nor you unpunifh’d, tho’ unjuft; 

When I alone, who love you moft, 

Am killed with your Difdain. 


M Y Goddefs Lydia, heav’nly Fair 
As Lillies fweet, as foft as Air; 

Let loofe thy Trefles, fpread thy Charms, 

And to my Love give frefh Alarms. 

O let me gaze on thofe bright Eyes, 

Tho’ facred Light’ ning from them flies: 

Show me that foft, that modeft Grace, 

Which -paints with charming Red thy Face. 

Give me Amhrofta in a Kifs, 

That I may rival Jove in Blifs; 

That I may mix my Soul with thine 
And make the Pleafure all divine. 

O hide thy Bofom’s killing White, 

(The Milky Way is not fo bright.) 

Left you my ravifh’d Soul opprefs 
With Beauty’s Pomp, and fweet Excefs. 

Why draw’ft thou from the Purple Flood 
Of my kind Heart the vital Blood ? 

Thou art all over endlefs Charms; 

O take me, dying, to thy Arms. 




W HERE is he gone, whom I adore ? 

The God-like Man I fee no more; 
Yet, without Reft, his Tyrant Charms 
Beat in my Heart ftill new Alarms. 

Aflift, dear Honour, take my Part, 

Or I am loft, with all my Art; 

Tear his Idea from my Breaft, 

Tho’ with it I am more than bleft. 

My Reafon too, prepare your Arms, 

Left he return with greater Charms; 
Love’s fatal and imprifon’d Dart, 

Draw from my tender bleeding Heart. 



In Imitation of Ovid 

S WEET Hyacinth, my Life, my Joy, 

What have I done my lovely Boy ? 

With Rifles I would flop thy Soul; 

But, O ! the Fates my Blifs controul. 

For thee I languilh, wifh to die, 

And weary grow of Immortality : 

Yet with my Harp I’ll found thy Praife, 

And to the Stars thy Beauties raife. 

Straight thou flialt rife with Purple Grace, 

And with the fame inviting Face 
Thy Blood fhall turn the Lilly Red; 

(Mourning) I’ll wear it on my Head. 

The World fhall celebrate thy Fame, 

And Feafts be call’d by thy dear Name; 

With Hyacinth Heav’n fhall refound, 

While Echoes catch the Charming Sound. 

The fatal Lofs, thus fad Apollo mourn’d, 

Of the fair Boy, for whom fo much he burn’d. 

( ”9 ) 


=g=s=B! = " " ? "^ o^ =====sgai=g==!=;5 


I N a dark, filent, fhady Grove, 

Fit for the Delights of Love, 

As on Corinna’s Breaft I panting lay, 

My right Hand playing with Et Catera. 

A thoufand Words and am’rous Rifles, 

Prepar’d us both for more fubftantial Blifles ; 

And thus the hafty Moments dipt away, 

Loft in the Tranfport of Et Cetera. 

She blufh’d to fee her Innocence betray’d, 

And the Small Oppofition fhe had made; 

Yet hugg’d me clofe, and, with a Sigh, did fay, 
Once more, my Dear, once more, Et Cater a. 

But, Oh! the Power to pleafe this Nymph was paft; 
Too violent a Flame can never laft ; 

So we remitted to another Day, 

The Profecution of Et Cater a. 


S HE was fo exquifite a Whore 

That in the Belly of her Mother, 

She plac’d her . . . fo right before, 

Her Father . . . them both together. 


O THAT I now cou’d, by fome Chymic Art, 

To Sperm convert my Vitals and my Heart, 
That at one Thruft I might my Soul tranflate, 

And in the Womb myfelf regenerate: 

There fteep’d in Luft, nine Months I wou’d remain; 
Then boldly . . . my Paflage out again. 

( 120 ) 




G ENTLE Reproofs have long been tried in vain. 

Men but defpife us, while we but complain ; 

Such Numbers are concern’d for the wrong Side, 

A weak Refiftance ftill provokes their Pride, 

And cannot ftem the Fiercenefs of the Tide. 

Laughers, Buffoons, with an unthinking Croud 
Of gaudy Fools, impertinent and loud, 

Infult in ev’ry Corner. Want of Senfe, 

Conform’d with an outlandifh Impudence, 

Among the rude Difturbers of the Pit, 

Have introduc’d ill Breeding and falfe Wit. 

To boaft their Lewdnefs here young Scowrers meet, 

And all the vile Companions of the Street, 

Keep a perpetual Brawling at the Door, 

Who beat the Bawd laft Night ? who bilkt the Whore ? 

They fnarl, but neither fight, nor pay a Farthing; 

A Play-Houfe is become a meer Bear-Garden, 

Where ev’ry one with Infolence enjoys 
His Liberty and Property of Noife. 

Should true Senfe, with revengeful Fire come down, 

Our Sodom wants Ten Men to fave the Town. 

Each Parifh is infefted; to be clear, 

We muft lofe more than when the Plague was here. 

While ev’ry little Thing perks up fo foon, \ 

That at Fourteen it heftors up and down, [ 

With the beft Cheats, and the worft Whores in Town; J 

Swears at a Play, who fhould be whipt at School, 

The Foplings muft in Time grow up to Rule ; 

The Fafhion muft prevail to be a Fool. 

Some pow’rful Mufe, infpir’d for our Defenfe, 

Arife and fave a little common Senfe. 

In fuch a Caufe, let thy keen Satire bite, 

Where Indignation bids thy Genius write; 

Mark a bold leading Coxcomb of the Town, 

Firft fingle out the Beaft, then hunt him down ; 

Hang up his mangled Carcafe on the Stage, 

To fright away the Vermin of the Age. 

( 121 ) 



G& - 

June 30, 1675 

y\T five this Morn, when Phoebus rais’d his head 
jt\. From Thetis Lap, I rais’d my felf from Bed, 

And mounting Steed, I trotted to the Waters, 

The Rendevouze of Fools, Buffons and Praters, 

Cuckolds, Whores, Citizens, their Wives and Daughters. 
My fqueamifh Stomach, I with Wine had brib’d, 

To undertake the Dofe, it was prefcrib’d: 

But turning Head, a curfed fuddain Crew, 

That innocent Provifion overthrew, 

And without drinking, made me Purge and Spew. 

From Coach and Six, a Thing unwealdy roll’d, 

Whom lumber Cart, more decently would hold: 

As wife as Calf it look’d, as big as Bully, 

But handled, prov’d a meer Sir Nicholas Cully ; 

A Bawling Fop, a Natural Nokes, and yet 
He dar’d to Cenfure, to be thought a Wit. 

To make him more Ridiculous in fpight, 

Nature contriv’d the Fool Ihould be a Knight: 

“ How wife is Nature when flie does difpence, 

“ A large Eftate to cover want of Sence. 

“ The Man’s a Fool, ’tis true, but that’s no matter, 

“ For He’s a mighty Wit, with thofe that flatter; 

“ But a poor Blockhead , is a wretched Creature. 

Tho’ he alone was difmal fight enough, 

His Train contributed to fet him off; 

All of his Shape, all of the felf-fame Stuff. 

No Spleen or Malice, need on them be thrown, 

Nature has done the bufinefs of Lampoon, 

And in their Looks their Characters are fhown. 
Endeavouring this irkfome fight to baulk, 

And, a more irkfome noife, their filly talk; 

I filently fhrunk down to th’ lower Walk. 

But often when we would Charibdis fhun, 

Down upon Scylla ’tis our fate to run; 

For here it was my curfed luck to find, 

As great a Fop, tho’ of another kind : 

A tall ftiff Fool, that walk’d in Spanifh guife; 

The Buckram Puppet never ftir’d his Eyes, 

But grave as Owlet look’d, as Woodcock wife. 

( 122 ) 


■ = = 3 > 

He fcorns the empty talk of this mad Age, 

And fpeaks all Proverbs, Sentences, Adage; 

Can with as great folemnity buy Eggs, 

As a Cabal can talk of their Intrigues; 

Mailer o’th’ Ceremonies, yet can difpence. 

With the formality of talking fence. 

From hence unto the upper end I ran, 

Where a new Scene of Foppery began; 

A tribe of Curates, Priefts, Canonical Elves, 

Were company for none befides themfelves: 

They got together, each his Diftemper told, 

Scurvy, Stone, Strangury; and fome were bold, 

To charge the Spleen to be their Mifery, 

And on that wife Difeafe bring Infamy. 

But none there were, fo modeft to complain \ 

Of want of Learning, Honelly Or Brain, J- 

The general Difeafes of that Train. ) 

Thefe call themfelves Ambaffadors of Heaven, 

Saucily pretending a Commiflion given : 

But fhould an Indian King, whole fmall Command, 

Seldom extends t’above ten miles of Land, 

Send forth fuch wretched Fools on an Embaffage, 

He’d find but fmall effedl, from fuch a Meffage. 

Liftning, I found the Cobb of all the Rabble, 

Was pert Bayes , with Importance comfortable; 

He being rais’d to an Arch-deaconry, 

By trampling on Religious Liberty, 

Was grown fo fat, and look’d fo big and jolly, \ 

Not being difturbed with care and melancholly, > 

Tho’ Marvel has enough expos’d his folly: ) 

He drank to carry off fome old Remains, 

His lazy dull Diftemper left in’s Veins; 

Let him drink on, but ’tis not a whole Flood, \ 

Can give fufficient fweetnefs to his Blood, !• 

Or make his Nature or his Manners good. ) 

Next after thefe, a fulfom Irifh Crew, 

Of filly Macks were offered to my view; 

The Things did talk, but hearing what they faid, 

I hid my felf, the kindnefs to evade. 

Nature has plac’d thefe Wretches below fcorn, 

They can’t be call’d fo vile, as they were born; 

Admidft the crowd, next I my felf convey’d, 

For now there comes (White-Walh, and Paint being laid,) 

( 123 ) 


— iga - i 

Mother and Daughter, Miftrefs and the Maid, 

And Squire with Wig and Pantaloons difplay’d : 

But ne’re could Conventicle, Play, or Fair, 

For a true Medly, with this Herd compare. 

Here Lords, Knights, Squires, Ladies and Counteffes, 

Chandlers, Mum-bacon Women and Sempftreffes, 

Were mixed together, nor did they agree, 

More in their Humours, than their Quality. 

Here waiting for Gallant, young Damfel flood, 

Leaning on Cane, and Muffled up in Hood: 

The would be wit whofe bulinefs ’twas to woo, 

With Hat remov’d, and folemn fcrape of Shooe 
Bowing advanced, then he gently fhrugs, 

And ruffled Foretop, he in order tugs; 

And thus accofts her, “ Madam methinks the Weather 1 
“ Is grown much more ferene fince you came hither; 

“ You influence the Heavens ; and fhould the Sun, 

“ Withdraw himfelf to fee his Rays out-done, 

“ Your Luminaries would fupply the Morn, 

“ And make a Day, before the Day be born. 

With Mouth fcrew’d up, and awkward winking Eyes, 

And breaft thrufl forward; Lord, Sir, fhe replies: 

It is your goodnefs, and not my deferts, 

Which makes you fhew your Learning, Wit and Parts. 

He puzzled, bites his Nails, both to difplay 
The Sparkling Ring, and think what’s next to fay: 

And thus breaks out afrefh. Madam, I’gad, 

Your luck, laft Night, at Cards was mighty bad 
At Cribbidge; Fifty-nine, and the next fliew, 

To make your Game, and yet to want thofe Two : 

G d me, Madam, I’m the Son of a Whore, 

If in my Life, I faw the like before. 

To Pedler’s Hall he drags her foon, and fays 
The fame dull fluff a thoufand different ways ; 

And then more fmartly to expound the Riddle 
Of all his Prattle, gives her a Scotch Fiddle. 

Quite tir’d with this moft difmal fluff, I ran 
Where were two Wives, and Girl juft fit for Man, 

Short was her Breath, Looks pale, and Vifage wan. 

Some Curtifies pafl, and the old Compliment, 

Of being glad to fee each other, fpent; 

With Hand in Hand they lovingly did walk, 

And one began thus to renew the Talk: 

( 124 ) 



* = - ===== 'Z&— 

I pray, good Madam, if it may be thought 
No Rudenefs, what caufe was’t hither brought 
Your Ladilhip? She foon replying, fmil’d: 

We have a good Eftate, but ne’re a Child; 

And I’m inform’d thefe Wells will make a barren 
Woman, as fruitful as a Cony Warren. 

The firft return’d : For this Caufe I am come, 

For I can have no Quietnefs at Home. 

My Husband grumbles tho’ we’ve gotten one, 

This poor young Girl, and mutters for a Son : 

And this difturb’d with Head-ach, Pangs and Throes, 
Is full Sixteen and yet had never Thofe. 

She anfwer’d, ftrait, Get her a Husband, Madam ; 

I Married at that Age, and never had ’em ; 

Was juft like her; Steel Waters let alone, 

A Back of Steel will bring them better down. 

And ten to one, but they themfelves will try, 

The fame way to encreafe their Family. 

Poor filly Fribble, who by Subtilty 
Of Midwife, trueft Friend to Letchery, 

Perfwaded art to be at Pains and Charge, 

To give thy Wife occafion to enlarge 

Thy filly Head. Some here Walk, Cuff and Kick 

With brawny Back and Legs and potent 

Who more fubftantially will cure thy Wife, 

And to her half-dead Womb reftore new Life: 

From thefe the Waters got their Reputation 
Of good Affiftance, unto Generation. 

Some warlike Men were now got to the Throng, 
With Hair ty’d back, finging a bawdy Song: 

Not much afraid, I got a nearer View, 

And ’twas my Chance to know the dreadful Crew: 
They were Cadets, that feldom did appear, 

Damn’d to the ftint of Thirty Pounds a Year. 

With Hawk on Fift, or Greyhound led in Hand, 

They Dog and Foot-boy fometimes do command ; 

But now having trim’d a leafti of fpavin’d Horfe, 
With three hard-pincht-for Guineas in their Purfe 

Two rufty Piftols, fcarfe about the Arfe 

Coat lin’d with Red, they here prefumed to fwell; 
This goes for Captain, that for Collonel : 

Ev’n fo Bear-Garden-Ape, on his Steed mounted, 

No longer is a Jackanapes accounted, 

( 125 ) 



. . ' 

But is by Virtue of his Trumpery, then 

Call’d by the Name of the young Gentleman. 

Blefs me ! thought I, what Thing is Man, that thus 
In all his fhapes, he is ridiculous. 

Our felves with noife of Reafon we do pleafe — 

In Vain, Humanity’s our worft Difeafe. 

Thrice happy Beafts are, who, becaufe they be 
Of Reafon void, are fo of Foppery. 


A S in the days of yore were odds 
Betwixt the Giants and the Gods, 

So now is rife a fearful Brawl 
Between the Parliament and Whitehal\ 

But, bleft be Jove, thefe Gods of ours 
Are greater in their Guilt than Pow’rs. 

Tho’ then the Heathens were fuch Fools, 

Yet they made Gods of better Tools. 

No Altars then to Plackets were, 

Nor Majefty by Bufs would fwear. 

They’d hang a Tippet at his Door, 

Should break a Parliament to pleafe a Whore; 

And further to oblige him to it, 

Would fwear by Portjm ^’s C 1 he’d do it, 

And by Contents of th’Oath he had took, 

Kneel’d down in zeal and kill the Book. 

They’d think the Faith too much amifs 
That fuch Defenders had as this, 

And that Religion look’d too poor, 

Whofe Head of th’ Church kiffc A — fe of W re. 

But this he did, much good may’t do him, 

And then the Quean held forth unto him. 

The Devil take her for a Whore : 

Wou’d he had kift ten years before, 

Before our City had been burn’d, 

And all our Wealth to Plagues had turn’d; 

Before fhe had ruin’d (pox upon her) 

Our Englifh Name, Blood, Wealth and Honor. 
Whilft Parliament too flippant gave, 

And Courtiers would but ask and have. 

( 126 ) 



- & 

Whilft they are making Englijh , French , 

And Money vote to keep the Wench, 

And the Buffoons and Pimps to pay, 

The devil a bit prorogu’d were they. 

The kifs of T 1, inftead had flood, 

And might have done three Nations good. 
But when the Commons would no more 
Raife Taxes to maintain the Whore. 

When they would not abide the Aw 
Of Handing Force inftead of Law. 

Then Law, Religion, Property 
They’d force ’gainft Will and Popery. 

When they provide that all fhall be 
From Slavery and Oppreffion free. 

That a Writ of Habeas Cor-pws come, 

And none in Prifon be undone. 

That Englijh men fhould not, like Beaft, 

To war by Sea or Land be preft. 

That Peace with Holland fhould be made, 
When War had fpoil’d our Men and Trade. 
That Treafon it fhould be for any, 

Without a Parliament to raife a Penny. 

That no Courtier fhould be fent 
To fit and vote in Parliament. 

That when an end to this was gave, 

A yearly Parliament we fhould have, 
According to the antient Law, 

That mighty Knaves might live in awe. 

That King nor Council fhould commit 
An Englijh man for wealth or wit. 
Prerogative being ty’d thus tight, 

That it could neither fcratch nor bite. 

When Whores began to be afeard, 

Like Armies, they fhould be cafhier’d. - 

Then Portjm th, the inceftuous Punk, 

Made our moft gracious Sov’raign drunk. 
And drunk fhe made him give that Bufs 
That all the Kingdom’s bound to curfe, 

And fo red hot with Wine and Whore, 

He kickt the Commons out of door. 


( 12 7 ) 




1 678 


Y OU Ladies all of merry England , 

Who have been to kifs the Dutchefs’s Hand 
Pray, did you not lately obferve in the £how 
A noble Italian , call’d Signior Dildoe ? 


This Signior was of the Dutchefles Train, 

And help’d to conduct her over the Main ; 

But now flie cries out to the Duke, I will go, 

I have no more need for Signior Dildoe. 


At the Sign of the Crofs in Saint James ' s Street 
When next you go thither to make your felves fweet, 
By buying of Powder, Gloves, Effence or fo, 

You may chance to get a fight of Signior Dildoe . 


You would take him at firft for no Perfon of Note, 
Becaufe he appears in plain Leather Coat; 

But when you his vertuous Abilities know, 

You would fall down and worfhip Signior Dildoe. 


My Lady [£ outhefk,"\ Heaven profper her for’t, 

Firft clothd him in Sattin, then brought him to Court; 
But his Head in the Circle he fcarcely durft fhow, 

So modeft a Youth was Signior Dildoe. 


The good Lady Suffolk thinking no harm, 

Had got this poor Stranger hid under her Arm: 

Lady Betty by chance came the Secret to know, 

And from her own Mother ftole Signior Dildoe. 

( 128 ) 


== ~ 1 '' 1 ' -" =€ 3 ? "> ■ 


The Countefs of Falmouth of whom People tell, 

Her Footmen wore Shirts of a Guinea an Ell, 

Might fave that Expence, if fhe did know 
How lufty a Swinger is Signior Dildoe . 


By the help of this Gallant the Countefs of Ra/e, 

Againft the fierce Harris preferv’d her felf fafe; 

She Stifled him almoft beneath her Pillow, 

So clofely fhe embraced Signior Dildoe. 


The Pattern of Vertue her Grace of Cl[tv€\land, 

Has fwallow’d more P s than the Nation has Land; 

But by rubbing and fcrubbing fo wide it does grow, 

It is fit for juft nothing but Signior Dildoe. 


Our dainty fine Dutchefs having got a Trick, 

To dote on a Fool for the fake of his 

The Fops were undone, did their Graces but know, 

The Difcretion and Vigour of Signior Dildoe. 


The Dutchefs of M[ode]na, tho’ fhe looks fo high, 

With fuch a Gallant is content to lie, 

And left the Englifh her Secrets lhould know, 

For her Gentleman Ufher took Signior Dildoe. 


The Countefs of the Cockpit (who knows not her Name ?) 

She’s famous in Story for a killing Dame; 

When all her old Lovers forfake her, I trow, 

She’ll then be contented with Signior Dildoe . 


Red Howard , red Sheldon , and Temple fo tall, 

Complain of his Abfence fo long from Whitehall', 

Signior Barnard has promis’d a Journey to go, 

And bring back his Country-man Signior Dildoe. 
k ( 129 ) 




Moll Howard tio longer with his Highnefs muff range. 

And therefore is proffered this Civil Exchange; 

Her Teeth being rotten, fhe fmells beft below, 

And needs muft be fitted for Signior Dildoe. 


Saint Albans with Wrinkles and Smiles in his Face, 

Whofe Kindnefs to Strangers becomes his high Place; 

In his Coach and fix Horfes is gone to pergo, 

To take the frefh Air with Signior Dildoe. 


Were this Signior but known to the Citizen Fops 
He’d keep their fine Wives from the Foremen of their Shops; 
But the Rafcals deferve their Horns fhould ftill grow, 

For burning the Pope and his Nephew Dildoe. 


Tom Killigrew's Wife, that Holland fine Flower, 

At the fight of this Signior did fart and belch four; 

And her Dutch breeding the further to fhow, 

Says, Welcome to England Myne Heer Van Dildoe. 


He civilly came to the Cockpit one night, 

And proffer’d his Service to fair Madam Knight; 

Quoth fhe, I intreague with Captain Cazzo, 

Your Nofe in mine A good Signior Dildoe. 


This Signior is found, fafe, ready and dumb, 

As ever was Candle, Carrot, or your Thumb; 

Then away with the nafty Devices, and fhow 
How you rate the juft Merit of Signior Dildoe. 


Count Cazzo , who carries his Nofe very high, 

In Paflion he fwore his Rival fhould die,' 

Then lhut himfelf up to let the World know, 

Flefh and Blood could not bear it from Signior Dildoe . 

( 130 ) 


■ T—" =€ S g== = = == > 


A Rabble of P s who were welcome before, 

Now finding the Porter denied them the Door, 

Malicioufly waited his coming below, 

And inhumanly fell on Signior Di/doe. 


Nigh wearied out, the poor Stranger did fly, 

And along the Pall Mall they followed full Cry; 

The Women concern’d, from every Window 
Cry’d, For Heaven’s fake, fave Signior Dildoe. 


The good Lady Sands burft into a Laughter, 

To fee how the B ks came wobbling after; 

And had not their weight retarded the Foe, 

Indeed it had gone hard with Signior Dildoe. 


In Imitation of a Satyr in Boileau 

S INCE the fons of the Mufes grew numerous and loud, 
For th’ appealing fo factious and clamorous a croud, 
Apollo thought fit, in fo weighty a caufe, 

T’eftablifh a government, leader, and laws. 

The hopes of the bays, at the fummoning call, 

Had drawn them together, the Devil and all ; 

All thronging and listening, they gap’d for the bleffing: 

No presbyter fermon had more crowding and preffing: 

In the head of the gang, John Dryden appear’d, 

That ancient grave wit fo long lov’d and fear’d, 

But Apollo had heard a ftory in town, 

Of his quitting the Mufes, to wear the black gown; 

And fo gave him leave now his poetry’s done, 

To let him turn prieft fince R[eeves] is turn’d nun. 

This reverend author was no fooner fet by, 

But Apollo had got gentle George in his eye, 

And frankly confefs’d, of all men that writ, 

There’s none had more fancy, fenfe, judgement, and wit: 

( I3 1 ) 


But in th’ crying fin, idlenefs, he was fo harden’d, 

That his long feven years filence was not to be pardon’d. 

[Wycherley] was the next man fhew’d his face, 

But Apollo e’en thought him too good for the place; 

No gentleman writer that office lhould bear, 

But a trader in wit the laurel fhould wear, 

As none but a Cit e’er makes a Lord-Mayor. 

Next into the crowd, Tom Shadwell does wallow, 

And fwears by his guts, his paunch, and his tallow, 

That ’tis he alone belt pleafes the age, 

Himfelf and his wife have fupported the ftage: 

Apollo, well pleas’d with fo bonny a lad, 

T’oblige him, he told him, he fhould be huge glad, 

Had he half fo much wit, as he fancy’d he had. 

Nat Lee ftepp’d in next, in hopes of a prize, 

Apollo remember’d he had hit once in thrice; 

By the rubies in ’s face, he could not deny, 

But he had as much wit as wine could fupply; 

Confefs’d that indeed he had a mufical note, 

But fometimes ftrain’d fo hard that he rattled in throat; 
Yet owning he had fenfe, t’encourage him for’t, 

He made him his Ovid in Auguftus’s court. 

Poor Settle, his trial was the next came about, 

He brought him an Ibrahim with the preface torn out, 

And humbly defir’d he might give no offence ; 

D n him, cries Shadwell, he cannot write fenfe : 

And Bancks, cry’d Newport, I hate that dull rogue; 

Apollo, confidering he was not in vogue, 

Would not truft his dear bays with fo modeft a fool, 

And bid the great boy be fent back to fchool. 

Tom Qtway came next, Tom Shadwell’s dear Zany, 

And fwears, for heroics, he writes beft of any: 

Don Carlos his pockets fo amply had fill’d, 

That his mange was quite cur’d, and his lice were all kill’d; 
Anababaluthu put in for a fhare, 

And little Tom Effence’s author was there: 

But Apollo had feen his face on the ftage, 

And prudently did not think fit to engage 
The fcum of a play-houfe, for the prop of an age. 

In the numerous crowd that encompafs’d him round, 

Little ftarch’d Johnny Crown at his elbow he found; 

His cravat-ftring new iron’d, he gently did ftretch 
His lily-white hand out, the laurel to reach. 

( 132 ) 



— OS? — 

Alledging that he had moft right to the bays. 

For writing romances, and fh — ting of plays : 

Apollo rofe up, and gravely confefs’d, 

Of all men that writ, his talent was beft; 

For fince pain and difhonour man’s life only damn, 

The greateft felicity mankind can claim, 

Is to want fenfe of fmart, and be paft fenfe of fhame; 

And to perfect his blifs in poetical rapture, 

He bid him be dull to the end of the chapter. 

The poetefs Afra next fhew’d her fweet face, 

And fwore by her poetry, and her black ace, 

The laurel by a double right was her own, 

For the plays lhe had writ, and the conquefts the had won. 
Apollo acknowledg’d ’twas hard to deny her, 

Yet, to deal frankly and ingenuoufly by her, 

He told her, were conquefts and charms her pretence, 

She ought to have pleaded a dozen years fince. 

Nor could D’Urfey forbear for the laurel in ftickle, 

Protefting that he had the honour to tickle 

Th’ ears of the town, with his dear Madam Fickle. 

With other pretenders, whofe names I’d rehearfe, 

But that they’re too long to ftand in my verfe: 

Apollo, quite tir’d with their tedious harangue, 

At laft found Tom Betterton’s face in the gang, 

For, fince poets without the kind players may hang, 

By his one facred light he folemnly fwore, 

That in fearch of a laureat, he’d look out no more; 

A general murmur ran quite through the hall, 

To think that the bays to an a£tor fhould fall; 

Tom told them, to put his defert to the teft, 

That he had Maid plays as well as the beft, 

And was the great’ft wonder the age ever bore, 

Of all the play-fcribblers that e’er writ before ; 

His wit had moft worth, and modefty in’t, 

For he had writ plays, yet ne’er came in print. 


M ARRIAGE, thou State of Jealoufie and Care, 

The Curfe of Wife , what Flefti and Blood can bear? 
She ever loads your Head, and ftunns your paflive Ear, 

And ftill the plague you feel, or ftill you fear. 

( 133 ) 


==== = = = == = i 

The World’s enchanted with the flattering Scene; 

But ohl the frightful Shapes that lurk within! 

Wives, like the Morn, appear at diftance bright, 

But Telefcopes of Marriage change the Sight, 

And fhew the mifreprefented Profpeft Right. 

For what did from afar with Glory fmile 
Near Hand is dark, a rugged, uncouth Soil ; 

The fancy’d Pleafure proves a tirefome Clogg; 

The Turf is Fair, but hides a fatal Bogg. 

When e’re to eafe your Care you take a Wife, 

She loads your Days, and doubly clogs your Life; 

Or by a Partner if you’d raife your Joy, 

The kind Partaker takes it all away. 

Perhaps in Rowing you may take a Pride; 

The Pleafure flyes, when to the Oar you’re tyed. 

Like Galley-Slaves you live whene’re you Wed, 

Tugg at a Wife, and drag a Chain in Bed. 

Of all the Bedlams Marriage is the worft, 

With endlefs Cords, with endlefs Keepers curft ! 

Frantic in Love you run, and rave about, 

Mad to get in, but hopelefs to get out: 

Still here you lie, for tho’ your Frenzie’s cur’d, 

The naufeous Hofpital muft ever be endur’d. 


S INCE Death on all lays his Impartial Hand, 

And all refign at his Command; 

The Stoic too, as well as I, 

With all his Gravity muft die; 

Let’s wifely manage this laft Span, 

The momentary Life of Man; 

And ftill in Pleafure’s Circle move, 

Giving our Days to Friends, and all our Nights to Love. 

Then while we are here let's thus perfedly live , 

And tafte all the Pleasures, that Nature can give\ 
Frefk Heat when Life's fading , our Wine will infpire , 
And fill all our Veins with a nobler Fire . 

When we’re faplefs, old, and impotent, 

Then we lhall grieve for Youth mifpent; 

Wine and Women only can 

( 134 ) 


* g== =0= 'fl » 

Cherifh the heavy Heart of Man. 

Let’s drink on till our Blood o’reflows 
Its Channels, and luxuriant grows, 

Then when our Whores have drain’d each Vein, 

And the thin Mafs frefli Spirits crave, let’s drink again. 

Then while we are here , etc. . . . 

The happy King, whom Heav’n it felf call’d Wife, 

Saw all was Vanity but Vice : 

His a drive Mind, ever in queft of Blifs, 

Survey’d all things, and ftuck to this ; 

Myriads of Harlots round him ftrove, 

Some fung, while others a died Love. 

Who then our Frailties can condemn, 

Since one fo wife left all to follow them? 


C ONQUER’D with foft and pleafing charms, 

And never failing Vows of her Return, 

Winter unlocks his frofty Arms 
To free the joyful Spring; 

Which for frefh Loves with youthful Heat does burn; 
Warm South winds court her, and with fruitful Showers 
Awake the drowfie Flowers, 

Who hafte and all their fweetnefs bring 
To pay their yearly Offering. 

No nipping White is feen, 

But all the Fields are clad in pleafant Green, 

And only fragrant Dews now fall. 

The Ox forfakes his once warm Stall 
To bafk i’ th’ Sun’s much warmer Beams; 

The Plowman leaves his Fire and his Sleep, 

Well pleaF d to whiffle to his lab ’ring Teams; 

Whilft the glad Shepherd pipes to’s frifking Sheep. 

Nay, tempted by the fmiling Sky 
Wreckt Merchants quit the Shore, 

Refolving once again to try 

The Wind and Sea’s Almighty Power; 

Choofing much rather to be Dead than Poor. 

( 135 ) 



Upon the flowing Plains, 

Or under fhady Trees, 

The Sheperdeffes and their Swains 
Dance to their rural Harmonies; 

Then fteal in private to their covert Groves, 

There finilh their well heighten’d Loves. 

The City Dame takes this pretence 
(Weary of Husband and of Innocence) 

To quit the Smoke and Bufinefs of the Town, 

And to her Country-Houfe retires, 

Where £he may bribe, then grafp fome Country Clown, 
Or her appointed Gallant come 
To feed her loofe Delires; 

Whilft the poor Cuckold by his Sweat at home 
Maintains her Luft and Pride, 

Bleft as he thinks with fuch a beauteous Bride. 

Since all the World’s thus gay and free, 

Why fhould not we? 

Let’s thus accept our Mother Nature’s Treat, 

And pleafe our felves with all that’s fweet, 

Let’s to the ftiady Bowers, 

Where Crown’d with gaudy Flowers, 

We’ll drink and laugh away the gliding Hours. 

Trufb me, Tkyr/is, the grim Conqueror Death 
With the fame freedom fnatches a King’s Breath. 

He hurdles the poor fetter’d Slave, 

To’s unknown Grave. 

Tho’ we each Day with coft repair, 

He mocks our greateft Skill and utmoft Care; 

Nor loves the Fair, nor fears the ftrong, 

And he that lives the longeft dies but young; 

And once depriv’d of Light 

We’re wrapt in Mifts of endlefs Night. 

Once come to thofe dark Cells of which we’re told 
So many ftrange romantick Tales of old 
(In things unknown Invention’s juftly bold) 

No more fhall Mirth and Wine 
Our Loves and Wit refine. 

No more Ihall you your Phyllis have, 

Phyllis fo long you’ve priz’d : 

Nay ihe too in the Grave 
Shall lie like us defpif’d. 

( 136 ) 





W HILE I was Monarch of your Heart, 

Crown’d with a Love where none had part, 
Each Mortal did with Envy die; 

No God but wifh’d that he were I. 


While you adored no charms but mine, 

And vow’d that they did all out-fhine; 

More celebrated was My Name 
Than that of the bright Grecian Dame. 


Chios's the Saint that I implore, 

Chios' s the Goddefs I adore, 

For whom to dye the Gods I pray’d 
If Fates wou’d fpare the charming Maid. 


Amyntas is my Lover’s Name, 

For whom I burn with mutual Flame; 
For whom I twice wou’d die with Joy, 

If Fates wou’d fpare the charming Boy. 


If I once more fhou’d wear your Chain, 
And take my Lydia back again; 

If banifh Chloe from my Breaft, 

That you might there for ever reft. 


Tho’ he is charming as a God, 

Serene and gay, divinely good. 

You rough as Billows raging high, 

With you I’d chufe to live and die. 

( 137 ) 





I Promis’d Sylvia to be true; 

Nay, out of Zeal, I fwore it too 
And that Ihe might believe me more, 
Gave her in writing what I fwore : 

Not Vows, not Oaths can Lovers bind; 
So long as blefs’d, fo long they’re kind: 
’Twas in a Leaf, the Wind but blew, 
Away both Leaf and Promife flew. 


W HILE in divine Panthea’s charming eyes, 
I view the naked Boy, that bafking lies, 

I grow a God ! fo bleft am I 

With facred rapture, and immortal joyl 

But abfent, if lhe fhines no more, 

And hides the funs that I adore; 

Straight like a wretch, defpairing I 
Sigh, languifti in the fliade, and die! 

O, I were loft in endlefs night, 

If her bright prefence brought not light! 

Then I revive, bleft as before! 

The Gods themfelves can be no more ! 


P ITY, fair Sappho! one that dies 
A victim to your beauteous eyes! 
For while on them I dare to gaze, 
Their dazzling glories fo amaze, 

My foul does melt with new defire ! 

I rave! I burn with fecret fire! 

And, bleffing the dear Caufe, expire! 

( 138 ) 


—< 3 3 5 !" 




T O all young Men that live to Woo, 

To Kifs and Dance, and Tumble too; 
Draw near and Counfel take of me, 

Your faithful Pilot I will be; 

Kifs who you pleafe, Joan, Kate , or Mary, 

But ftill this Counfel with you carry, 

Never Marry. 

Court not a Country Lady, lhe 
Knows not how to value thee; 

She hath no am’rous Paffion, but 
What Tray, or §>uando has for Slut : 

To Lick, to Whine, to Frisk, or Cover, 

She’ll thee, or any other, 

Thus to Love her. 

Her Daughter fhe’s now come to Town, 

In a rich Linfey Woolfey Gown; 

About her Neck a valued Prize, 

A Necklace made of Whiting Eyes ; 

With Lift for Garters ’bove her Knee, 

And Breath that fmells of Firmity, 

’s not for thee. 

Of Widows Witchcrafts have a Care, 

For if they catch you in their Snare, 

You muft as daily Labourers do, 

Be ftill a fhoving with your Plow: 

If any reft you do require, 

They then deceive you of your Hire, 

and retire. 

The Maiden Ladies of the Town, 

Are fcarcely worth your throwing down ; 

For when you have Poffeffion got, 

Of Venus Mark, or Hony-pot: 

There’s fuch a Stir with marry me, 

That one would half forfwear to fee 

any lhe. 

( 139 ) 


If that thy Fancy do defire, 

A glorious Out-fide, rich Attire; 

Come to the Court, and there you’ll find, 
Enough of fuch to pleafe your Mind : 

But if you get too near their Lap, 

You’re fure to meet with the Milhap 

Call’d a Clap. 

With greafy painted Faces dreft, 

With butter’d Hair, and fucus’d Breaft ; 
Tongues with Diflimulation tipt, 

Lips which a million have fipp’d : 

There’s nothing got by fuch as thefe, 

But Achs in Shoulders, Pains in Knees 

For your Fees 

In fine, if thou delight’ft to be, 

Concern’d in Womans Company: 

Make it the Studies of this Life, 

To find a Rich, Young, Handfome Wife: 
That can with much Difcretion be 
Dear to her Husband, kind to thee 


In fuch a Miftrefs, there’s the Blifs, 

Ten Thoufand Joys wrapt in a Kifs; 

And in th’ Embraces of her Waift, 

A Million more of Pleafure tafte; 

Who’er would Marry that cou’d be 
Bleft with fuch Opportunity, 

Never me. 



S YLVIA ne’er defpife my Love, 

For Colon’s mightier Dart, 

By Force and Vigour you fliall prove, 

Will reach your panting Heart. 

To Fools fuch Monfters Nature fends, 

For want of Brains, a dull amends. 

( I 4° ) 



= k C a- = > 


Content yourfelf with what’s your due; 

Him you excell in Wit ’tis true. 

But Colon has his Merits too. 

Wit is but Words, and Words but Wind, 

That dallies with a wanton Mind; 

As Zephyr's gentle Breezes play, 

With my extended Limbs in May : 

But you methinks, fweet Sir, fhou’d know, 

’Tis Subftance that prevails below. 

To each then his juft dole I’ll give, 

With you I’ll talk, with him I’ll 

Your Wit fhall raife my ftrong Delires, 

And he ftiall quench their raging Fires. 

Thus both your Merits I’ll unite, 

You fha.ll my Ear, he pleafe my Appetite. 


This faid, with fpeed the curfed Bitch retir’d 
And left me with juft Indignation fir’d; 

But taught in Woman’s proftituted Schools, 

That Men of Wit, but Pimp for Fools. 


W HAT ftrange Surprife to meet fuch Words as thefe ? 

Such Terms of Horrour were ne’er chofe to pleafe: 

To meet, midft Pleafures of a Jovial Night, 

Words that can only give amaze and fright, 

No gentle thought that does to Love invite. 

Were it not better for your Arms t’ employ, 

Grafping a Lover in purfuit of Joy, 

Than handling Sword, and Pen, Weapons unfit: 

Your Sex gains Conqueft, by their Charms and Wit. 

Of Writers flain I could with pleafure hear, 

Approve of Fights, o’erjoy’d to caufe a Tear; 

So flain, I mean, that fhe fhou’d foon revive, 

Pleas’d in my Arms to find her felf Alive. 

( H 1 ) 





T HE clog of all Pleafure, the Luggage of Life, 

Is the beft can be faid of a very good Wife: 
But if Ihe proves whorifh, and peevifh befide, 

Her Fortune but narrow, and her very wide; 

Marriage then feems by the Devil invented, 

In the height of his Malice, when over tormented; 
And the Portion he gave with Madam, his Daughter, 
Is Hell upon Earth, worfe than any hereafter. 


I COULD Love thee ’till I dye, 
Wouldft Thou Love mee modeftly; 
And ne’re preffe, whilft I live, 

For more than willingly I would give; 
Which fhould fufficient be to prove 
I’de underftand the Arte of Love. 

I hate the Thing is call’d Injoyment 
Befydes it is a dull employment, 

It cutts off all that’s Life and Fire 
From that which may be term’d Defire 
Juft (like the Bee) whofe Sting is gon, 
Converts the owner to a Droane. 

I Love a youth [if] he’d give mee leave 
His Body in my Arms to wreath; 

To preffe him gently and to kiffe, 

To ligh and looke with Eyes that wifli 
For what if I could once obtain, 

I would negledt with flatt difdaine. 

I’de give him Libertye to toye, 

And play with me and count it Joye. 
Our freedom fhould be full compleate, 
And nothing wanting but the feate, 
Let’s practice then, and we fhall prove 
Thefe are [the] only fweets of Love 

( H 2 ) 



3 >* 


G REAT Charles who full of mercy couldft command 
In peace and plenty, this thy native land, 

At laft take pity of thy tott’ring throne, 

Shook by the faults of others, not thy own ; 

Let not thy Life and Crowne together end, 

Betray’d by a falfe brother and falfe friend; 

Obferve the danger that appears fo near, 

And all thy Subjects do each minute fear. 

A drop of poifon or a popiih knife, 

Ends all the Joys of England with thy life. 

Brothers, ’tis true, by nature fhould be kind, 

But to a zealous and ambitious mind, 

Brib’d by a throne on earth and one above, 

Ther’s no more friendftiip, tendernefs, or love. 

For in all ages what examples are 
Of Monarchs murder’d by the impatient heir — 

Hard fate of Princes who will ne’er believe 

Till the ftroke’s ftruck which they can ne’er retrieve. 


S IX of the Female Sex, and pureft Sect, 

Had Conference of late to this Efiredt; 

How they might change the Popifh Name of Preaching; 

Then quoth the firfl, it fhall be called Teaching ; 

The fecond , tho’ not learn’d, yet full as wife, 

Said file lik’d belt to call it Exercife: 

The Third , being newly warm’d with Heav’nly Nefiar, 

Fell to commend the Heav’nly Name of Ledure : 

Nay, quoth the fourth, the Brethren, as I hear, 

Do call it Speaking in Northamptonfliire : 

The fifth to none of thefe did yet accord, 

But term’d it purely handling of the Word : 

No, quoth the fixth, Standing’s a Name more fit, 

For Preachers in a Pulpit feldom fit: 

To which two laft accorded all the reft, 

For all liked Handling well, but Standing beft. 

( H3 ) 


I N Verfe to eafe thy ■wretched Wants I write, 

Not mov’d by Envy, Malice, or by Spite, 

Or pleas’d with th’ empty Names of Wit and Senfe, 
But meerly to fupply thy want of Pence: 

This did infpire my Mufe . , when out at Heel 
She faw the needy Secretary reel; 

Griev’d that a Man fo ufeful to the Age, 

Shou’d foot it in fo mean an Equipage; 

A crying Scandal, that the Fees of Senfe, 

Shou’d not be able to fupport th’ Expence 
Of a poor Scribe, who never thought of Wants, 
When able to procure a Cup of Nants. 

But Dulnefs fits at Helm, and in this Age, 

Governs our Councils, Pulpits, and the Stage: 

Here a dull Councellor ador’d we fee, 

And there a Poet, duller yet than he, 

With beardlefs Bifhop, dulleft of the three, 

’Tis dangerous to think 

For who by thinking tempts his jealous Fate, 

Is ftraight arraign’d as Traytor to the State, 

And none that come within the Verge of Senfe, 
Have to Preferment now the leaft Pretence; 

Nay, Poets guilty of that Treafon prov’d, 

Are by a gen’ral Bufs from Court remov’d; 
Shakefpear himfelf, reviv’d, finds no Succefs, 

And living Authors fure might hope for lefs. 

Since Dulnefs then, finds more Succefs than Wit, 
Dulnefs, the Darling of the Throne, and Pit, 

This Poem, Julian , cannot fail to hit. 

But for thy Profit, Julian , have a Care 
Of Prying Poult’ ney, and of Bully Carr, 

In whom there’s Danger, for the one does write 
With the fame Prowefs the other us’d to fight: 

Next florid Huntington , and civil Grey, 

Who knew his Grace was gone, but not which Way: 
’Twere needlefs here, and tedious too to name 
All that are envious of poor Poets Fame; 

Confult thy facred Volume, where thou’lt find 
Such who to reverend Dulnefs have been kind; 

To thofe obfequious Cringe, with humble Bow,. 

( 144 ) 


" &= ’ 

With Court-like Scrapes, and with fubmiffive Brow; 
Since from their numerous Party thou may’ft hope 
More than Prance, Oats, or Bedloe from the Pope ; 
Thirfis has gain’d Preferment by a Song, 

While Hudibras does ftarve amidft the Throng; 

Nay, Minion Shadwell cannot hold out long. 

There lives a Lord, a noble Peer is he, 

Whofe Confcience is as pliant as his Knee, 

Whofe eafy Temper, by good Nature mov’d, 

Does make him universally belov’d ; 

He once pretended to a Share of Senfe, 

But for that infolent, and bold Offence, 

The Council wifely banifh’d him from thence ; 

Who finding thofe Pretences ominous, 

Is grown, at length, as dull as one of us, 

Him make thy Friend, and if that Method fail, 
Prepare thee in thefe following Terms to rail. 

May Hemet's Billet-doux fuccefsful prove, 

In tempting of her little Grace to Love; 

May Angle} ey think Bribery a Sin, 

The Countefs pull it out, when once put in ; 

May Arlington his little Brat defpife, 

And fhe no more the Name of Dut chefs prize ; 

May puzzling Howard live by Poetry, 

And Cleveland die for want of Letchery; 

May Monmouth quit his Int’reft in the Crown; 

May Howard never grin, nor Nelly frown ; 

May Betty Mackrell ceafe to be a W 

May Villain Frank Mazarine no more. 


Worthy Sir, 

T HO’ wean’d from all thofe fcandalous Delights, 
In which I gladly once mifpent my Nights, 
And lewdly fool’d away my youthful Days, 

When regent Punk allow’d the life of Plays, 

Weak Nature ftill prevails, and fain I’d hear 
What upftart Fops in Julian's Volumes are; 

L ( 145 ) 


*= """ , "’""" < SSS I " a>» 

Whether the lifping Lord, who lately writ 
With many Words, and with fo little Wit, 

Has found more Work for his cor re ding Friend, 

Who flyly laughs at what he feems to mend : 

What Vint’ners break, fince Drunkennes has been 
Found Treafon, above killing of the King; 

And Witneffes for that are cherifh’d more 
Than Oats or Bedloe ever were before. 

Fain wou’d I know who lines that naufeous B — tch, 

Whofe filthier Mouth officiates for her Breech: 

Whether the Booby Wh — Ip of kingly Race, 

Or the foft Earl, contented with Difgrace: 

And yet, methinks, ’tis ftrange, that any Son 
Shou’d rival Rowly there, befide his own. 

I’d hear whether the Wight with antick Pace, 

Imbroider’d Coat, and antiquated Face, 

Changing his Hebrew for a warlike Cant, 

Still meets the Queen Street lewd Inhabitant. 

But above all, I gladly wou’d here tell 
Some Paffages of that molt decent Ball, 

Where Irifli ’ Squire fo cunningly contriv’d, 

At his own Charge to have his Lady ; 

We’re told how Virgins bright, and Gallants brave, 

Marfhall’d by Bawds, moft infamoufly grave; 

But we don’t hear of whofe Commodity 
The luftful b — ggering Jew thought fit to buy; 

Who ogl’d who, or how the prudent Maid 
Cou’d brook the Man her Sifter fo betray’d. 


A Load of Guts, wrapt in a fallow Skin, 

, Fulfome without, and ten Times worfe within; 
Juft Wit enough for her appointed Ends, 

And Truth to cheat all thofe fhe calls her Friends; 
Even Monmouth is by this falfe Wight betray’d, 

A rank, o’er-ridden Jade, yet ftill a Maid. 

( 146 ) 


« ' = = = == => 


A 1 

LL the World can’t afford, 

Such a B ch as Moll Howard , 

She procures for my Lady, and lies with my Lord; 
If this fhe deny, 

’Tis Time fhe fhou’d die, 

For fhe’s able to Bawd for a whole Council Board. 



D ISGRAC’D, undone, forlorn, made Fortune’s Sport, 
Banifh’d the Kingdom firft, and then the Court; 

Out of my Place turn’d forth, and out of Doors, 

And made the meaneft of your Sons of Wh — res, 

The Scene of Laughter, and the common Chats 
Of your fait Bitches, and your other Brats, 

Forc’d to a private Life, to Whore and Drink, 

On my paft Grandeur, and my Folly think. 

Wou’d I had been the Brat of fome mean drab, 

Whom Fear and Shame had Caufe to choak and flab. 

Rather than be the Iffue of a King, 

And by him made fo wretched, scorn’d a Thing I 
What little Caufe has Mankind to be Proud 
Of Honours, Birth, the Idol of the Crowd ! 

Have I abroad, in Battles, Honour won, 

To be at home, inglorioufly undone, 

Mock’d with a Star and Garter, and made fine 
With all thofe Trifles, once call’d mine ? 

Your Hobby-horfe, and your meer Toy of State, 

And now become the Objeft of your Hate? — 

But D — mn me, Sir, I’ll be Legitimate. 


T IR’D with the noyfom Follies of the Age, 

And weary of my part, I quite the Stage; 

For who in Life’s dull Farce a part would bear, 

Where Rogues, Whores, Bawds, all the head Adfcors are? 

( H7 ) 

Long I with charitable Malice ftrove, 

Lafoing the Court, thofe Vermin to remove, 

But thriving Vice under the Rod ftill grew, 

As aged Letchers whipp’d, their Lufh renew; 

Yet though my Life hath unfuccefsfull been, 

(For who can this Augaan Stable clean) 

My gen’rous end I will purfue in Death, 

And at Mankind rail with my parting breath. 

Firft then, the Tangier Bullies muft appear, 

With open Bravery, and difiembled Fear: 
Mulg\rav\e their Head; but Gen’ral have a care, 
Though fkill’d in all thofe Arts that cheat the fair, 
The undifcerning and Impartial Moor, 

Spares not the Lover on the Ladies fcore. 

Think how many perifo by one fatal foot, 

The Conquefts all thy Ogling ever got. 

Think then (as I prefume you do) how all 
The Englifo Beauties will lament your fall; 

Scarce will there greater Grief pierce ev’ry heart, 
Shoiuld Sir George Hewit of Sir Carr depart. 

Had it not better been, than thus to roam, 

To flay and tye the Cravat-ftring at home ? 

To ftrut, look big, foake Pantaloon, and fwear 
With Hewit, damme , there’s no Adtion there! 
Had’ft thou no Friend that would to Rowly write, 
To hinder this thy eagernefs to fight? 

That without danger thou a Brave might’ft be, 

As fure to be deny’d as ShrewJ\bur\y. 

This fure the Ladies had not fail’d to do, 

But who fuch Courage could fufpedl in you ? 

For fay, what reafon could with you prevail, 

To change Embroider’d Coat for Coat of Mail ? 
Let Plim[out]h, or let Mord[aun\t go, whom Fate 
Has made not valiant but defperate. 

For who would not be weary of his Life, 

Who’s loft his Money, or has got a Wife? 

To the more tolerable Alcaid of Alcazzer, 

One flies from’s creditors, the other from Frazier ; 
’Twere cruelty to make too foarp Remarks, 

On all the little, forward, fighting Sparks; 

Only poor Charles I can’t but pity thee, 

When all the pert young Voluntiers I fee. 

Thofe Chits in War, who as much Mirth create, 

( 148 ) 



As the Pair Royal of the Chits of State: 

Their Names fhall equal or exceed in Story, 

Chit Sund[erlan\d, Chit Godo\lpht\n , and Chit L[or]y. 
When thou let’ft Plim[oui]h go ’twas fuch a jeft, 

As when the Brother made the fame requeft; 

Had Rich\_mon\d but got leave as well as he, 

The Jeft had been compleat and worthy thee. 

Well fince he muft, he’ll to Tangier advance 
It is refolv’d, but firft let’s have a Dance. 

Firft, at her Highnefs Ball he muft appear, 

And in a parting Country Dance, learn there 
With Drum and Fife to make a Jigg of War; 

What is of Soldier feen in all the heap, 

Befides the flutt’ring Feather in the Cap, 

The Scarf, and Yard or two of Scarlet Cloath, 

From Gen’ral Mulg\rav\e down to little W roth ? 

But now they’re all embark’d and curfe their Fate, 

Curfe Charles that gave them leave, and much more Kate, 
Who then Tangier to England and the King 
No greater Plague, befides her felf could bring; 

And with the Moors, fince now their hand was in, 

As they have got her Portion, had the Queen. 

There leave we them, and back to England come, 
Where-by the wifer Sparks that ftay at home, 

In fafe Ideas by their fancy form’d, 

Tangier (like MaftricK) is at Windjor ftorm’d. 

But now we talked of Majlrich , where is he, 

Fam’d for that brutal piece of Bravery ? 

He with his thick impenetrable Skull, 

The folid, hard’ned Armour of a Fool: 

Well might himfelf to all Wars ill expofe, 

Who (come what will yet) had no Brains to lofe: 

Yet this is he, the dull unthinking he, 

Who muft (forfooth) our future Monarch be, 

This Fool by Fools ( Armfirong and V er\no\n) led, 

Dreams that a Crown will drop upon his head, 

By great example, he this Path doth tread, 

Following fuch fenfelefs Afles up and down, 

(For Saul fought Affes when he found a Crown) 

But Roffe is rifen as Samuel at his call, 

To tell that God hath left th’ambitious Saul. 

Never (fays Heaven) fhall the blufhing Sun, 

See Proger’s Baftard fill the Regal Throne. 

( H9 ) 



- — cs? 

So Heaven fays, but Bran[do\n fays he fhall, 

But who e’er he protects is fure to fall. 

Who can more certain of Deftrudtion be, 

Than he that trufts to fuch a Rogue as he ? 

What good can come from him who York forfook, 
T’efpoufe the Intereft of this booby Duke ? 

But who the beft of Matters could defert, 

Is the moft fit to take a Traytor’s part. 

Ungrateful! This thy Matter-piece of fin 
Exceeds ev’n that with which thou didft begin. 
Thou great Proficient in the Trade of Hell, 

Whofe latter Crimes ftill do thy firft excell: 

The very top of Villainy we feize, 

By fteps in order, and by juft degrees. 

None e’er was perfedt Villain in one day, 

The murder’d Boy to Treafon led the way; 

But when degrees of Villainy we name, 

How can we chufe but think on Buck\inghd]m ? 

He who through all of them hath boldly ran, 

Left ne’er a Law unbroke of God or Man. 

His treafured Sins of Supererogation, 

Swell to a fumm enough to damn a Nation : 

But he mutt here, per force, be let alone, 

His adts require a Volume of their own: 

Where rank’d in dreadful order fhall appear, 

All his Exploits from Shrewf\buf\y to Le Meer. 

But ftay, methinks I on a fudden find, 

My Pen to treat of th’other Sex inclin’d : 

But where in all this choice fhall I begin ? 

Where but with the renowned Mazarine ? 

For all the Bawds the Court’s rank Soil doth bear, 
And Bawds and Statefmen grow in plenty there, 

To thee fubmit and yield, fhould we be juft, 

To thy experienc’d and well-travell’d Luft: 

Thy well-known Merits claim that thou fhould’ft be, 
Firft in the Glorious Roll of Infamy. 

To thee they all give place, and Homage pay, 

Do all thy Letcherous Decrees obey; 

(Thou Queen of Luft, thy Bawdy Subjects they.) 
While Sujjfex, Brughill , Betty Felton come, 

Thy Whores of Honour, to attend thy Throne; 

For what proud Strumpet e’er could merit more, 
Than be Anointed the Imperial Whore ? 

( 15 ° ) 


-» - ■■ cS? 1 

For tell me in all Europe , where’s the part, 

That is not confcious of thy Lewd defert. 

The great Pelean Youth, whofe Conquefts run 
O’er all the World, and travell’d with the Sun, 

Made not his Valour in more Nations known, 

Than thou thy Luft, thy matchlefs Lull have fhown. 
All Climes, all Countries do with Tribute come, 
(Thou World of Lewdnefs) to thy boundlefs Womb: 
Thou Sea of Luft, that never ebb doft know, 

Whither the Rivers of all Nations flow. 

Lewd Meff aline was but a Tipe of thee, 

Thou higheft, laft degree of Letchery: 

For in all Ages, except her and you, 

Who ever finn’d fo high and ftooped fo low? 

She to the Imperial Bed each Night did ufe, 

To bring the ftink of the exhaufted Stews ; 

Tir’d (but not fatisfy’d) with Man did come, 

Drunk with abundant Luft, and reeling home. 

But thou to our admiring Age doft ftiow 
More fin than innocent Rome did ever know; 

And having all her Lewdnefles out-ran, 

Takes up with Devil, having tir’d Man: 

For what is elfe that loathfome ugly Black, 

Which you and SuJJex in your Arms do take? 

Nor does Old Age, which now rides on fo faft, 
Makes thee come fhort of all thy Lewdnefs paft: 
Though on thy Head, Grey Hairs, like Etna’s Snow 
Are filed, thou’rt Fire and Brimftone all below. 

Thou monftrous thing, in whom at once does rage 
The Flames of Youth, and Impotence of Age. 

My Lady Dutchefs takes the fecond place, 

Proud with thy favour and peculiar grace; 

Ev’n fhe with all her Piety and Zeal, 

The hotter flames that burn in thee does feel. 

Thou doft into her kindling Breaft infpire, 

The luftful Seeds of thy contagious fire; 

So well the Spirit and the Flefh agree, 

Luft and Devotion, Zeal and Letchery. 

Of what Important ufe Religion’s made, 

By thofe who wifely drive the cheating Trade; 

As Wines prohibited fecurely pafs, 

Changing the Name of their own native Place. 

So Vice grows fafe, drefs’d in Devotion’s Name, 

( 151 ) 

Unqueftion’d by the Cuftom-houfe of Fame: 

Where ever too much San&ity you fee, 

Be more fufpicious of hid Villany ? 

Whofe’ever’s Zeal is than his Neighbours more, 

If Man fufpedt him Rogue, if Woman Whore: 

And fuch a thing art thou religious Pride, 

So very Lew’d, and yet fo fanctify’d. 

Let now the Dutchefs take no further care, 

Of numorous Stallions, let her not defpair, 

Since her indulgent Stars fo kind have been, 

To fend her Bromley , H and Mazarine ; 

This laft doth banifli’d Monmouth' % place fupply, 
And Wit fupplanted is by Letchery. 

For Monmouth he had Parts, and Wit, and Senfe, 
To all which Mazarine had no pretence; 

A proof that iince fuch things as fhe prevail, 

Her Highnefs Head is lighter than her Tail. 

But ftay, I Portf mouth almofl had forgot, 

The common Theam of ev’ry rhiming Sot\ 

She’ll after railing make us laugh a while, 

For at her Folly who can chufe but fmile ? 

While them who always flight her, great flie makes, 
And fo much pains to be defpis’d fhe takes. 

Goes fauntring with her Highnefs up to Town, 

To an old Play, and in the dark comes down; 

Still makes her Court to her as to the Queen, 

But ftill is Juftled out by Mazarine. 

So much more Worthy a kind Bawd is thought, 
Than even fhe who her from Exile brought. 

O Port/mouth, foolifh Portf mouth! Not to take 
The offer the great Sun[derlan\d did make. 

When cringing at thy Feet; e’en Monmouth bow’d. 
The Golden Calf, that’s worfhipp’d by the Crowd. 
But thou for- T[or]£, who now defpifes thee, 

To leave both him and pow’rful Shajtejbury . 

If this is all the Policy you know, 

This all the skill in States you boaft of fo. 

How wifely did thy Countreys Laws ordain, 

Never to let the foolifh Women reign, 

But what muff we expeft, who daily fee 
Unthinking Charles rul’d by Unthinking thee? 

( 152 ) 




In 1676 , the Earl of Rochester was banished 
from Whitehall for a libel which he had written 
against the King. During the time of his exile he 
disguised himself as an astrologer ; his fame ran 
through the town so swiftly that men and women of 
every class flocked to him for advice. The story is 
told more fully in the Introduction. His Advertis- 
ment, reprinted here , was originally issued as a 
broadside circular. 







Wifheth all Health and Profperity. 

W Hereas this Famous Metropolis of England, (and were the Endeav- 
ours of its worthy Inhabitants equal to their Power, Merit, and 
Vertue, I Ihould not flick to denounce it, in a fhort time, the Metropolis of 
the whole World ) — Whereas this City (as moft Great Ones are) has ever 
been infefted with a numerous Company of fuch, whofe Arrogant Con- 
fidence, backing their Ignorance, has enabled them to impofe upon the 
People, either premeditated Cheats, or at beft, the palpable, dull, and 
empty Miftakes of their felf-deluded Imaginations in Phyfick, Chymical, 
and Galenick, in Aftrology, Phyfiognomy, Palmeftry, Mathematicks, Al- 
chymy, and even in Government it felf; the laft of which, I will not 
propofe to Difcourfe of, or meddle at all in, fince it no ways belongs to 
my Trade or Vocation, as the reft do; which (thanks to my God) I find 
much more fafe, I think equally Honeft, and therefore more Profitable: 
But as to all the former, they have been fo erroneoufiy practis’d by many 
unlearned Wretches, whom Poverty and Needinefs for the moft part, (if 
not the reftlefs Itch of Deceiving) has forc’d to ftraggle and wander in 
unknown Paths, that even the Profeffions themfelves, though originally 
the Products of the moft Wife Men’s Laborious Studies and Experiences, 

( 155 ) 


•3 - = ' ^ 3 ? a^^=8=g===s. 

and by them, left a wealthy and glorious Inheritance for Ages to come, 
feem by this Baftard-Race of Quacks and Cheats, to have been run out 
of all Wifdom, Learning, Perfpicuoufnefs, and Truth, with which they 
were fo plentifully flock’d, and now run into a Repute of meer Mills, 
Imaginations, Errours, and Deceits, fuch as in the Management of thefe 
idle Profeffors indeed they were. 

You will therefore (I hope) Gentlemen , Ladies, and Others , deem it but 
Juft ; that I, who for fome Years have with all Faithfulnefs and Affiduity, 
courted thefe Arts, and received fuch fignal Favours from them; that they 
have admitted me to the happy and full enjoyment of themfelves, and 
trailed me with their greatefl Secrets; Ihou’d with an Earneftnefs and Con- 
cern more than ordinary, take their parts againfl thofe impudent Fops, 
whofe faucy, impertinent Addreffes and Pretenfions have brought fuch 
Scandal upon their moil immaculate Honours and Reputations. 

Befides, I hope you will not think I could be fo impudent, that if I had 
intended any fuch foul play my felf, I would have giv’n you fo fair warn- 
ing by my fevere Obfervations upon others. §>jfi alterum incufat probri, 
ipjum fe intuert oportet , (Plaut). However, Gentlemen , in a World like this 
(where Vertue is fo exactly counterfeited, and Hypocrifie fo generally taken 
notice of, that every one, arm’d with Sufpicions, Hands upon his Guard 
againfl it) ’twill be very hard for a Stranger efpecially to efcape a Cenfure. 

All I lhall fay for my felf on this fcore, is this : If I appear to any one 
like a Counterfeit, ev’n for the fake of that chiefly, ought I to be conftrued 
a true Man, who is the Counterfeits Example, his Original, and that which 
he employs his Induflry and Pains to imitate and copy: Is it therefore my 
fault, if the Cheat by his Wits and Endeavours makes himfelf fo like me, 
that confequendy I cannot avoid refembling of him ? Confider, pray, the 
Valiant and the Coward; the wealthy Merchant, and the Bankrupt; the 
Politician, and the Fool ; they are the fame in many things, and differ in 
but one alone. The Valiant Man holds up his Head, looks confidently 
round about him, wears a Sword, courts a Lord’s Wife, and owns it: So 
does the Coward, one only point of Honour, and that’s Courage, (which, 
like falfe Metal, one only trial can difcover) makes the diftindtion. 

The Bankrupt walks the Exchange , buys Bargains, draws Bills, and ac- 
cepts them with the richeft, whilft Paper and Credit are current Coin: 
That which makes the difference, is real Cafh, a great Defedl indeed, and 
yet but one, and that the laft found out, and ftill then the leaft perceived. 

Now for the Politician, he is a grave, deliberating, clofe, prying Man: 
Pray, are there not grave, deliberating, clofe prying Fools ? If then the 
difference betwixt all thefe (though infinite in effedl) be fo nice in all 
appearance, will you expedt it fhould be otherwife betwixt the falfe Phy- 
fician, Aftrologer, &c. and the true? The firft calls himfelf Learned 
Dodlor, fends forth his Bills, gives Phyfick, and Counfel, tells, and fore- 

( 156 ) 


e£s? 1 

tels; the other is bound to do juft as much; ’tis only your Experience muft 
diftinguifh betwixt them; to which I willingly fubmit my felf: I’ll only 
fay fomething to the Honour of the Mountebank, in cafe you difcover me 
to be one. 

Reflect a little what kind of Creature ’tis: He is one then who is fain 
to fupply fome higher Ability he pretends to, with Craft: He draws great 
Companies to him, by undertaking ftrange things which can never be 

The Politician (by his Example, no doubt) finding how the people are 
taken with fpecious, miraculous Impoffibilities, plays the fame Game, pro- 
tefts, declares, promifes I know not what things, which he’s fure can ne’er 
be brought about: The people believe, are deluded, and pleafed, the ex- 
pectation of a future good, which fhall never befall them, draws their eyes 
off of a prefent evil. Thus are They kept and eftablifh’d in Subjection, 
Peace, and Obedience; He in Greatnefs, Wealth, and Power: So you fee 
the Politician is, and muft be a Mountebank in State Affairs, and the Mounte- 
bank (no doubt if he thrives) is an arrant Politician in Phyfick. 

But, that I may not prove too tedious, I will proceed faithfully to inform 
you, what are the Things in which I pretend chiefly at this time to ferve 
my Country. 

Firft, I will, by the leave of God, perfectly cure that "Labes Brittanica , 
or Grand Englifh Difeafe, the Scurvy, and that with fuch eafe to my Patient , 
that he fhall not be fenfible of the leaft Inconvenience whilft I fteal his 
Diftemper from him; I know there are many who treat this Difeafe with 
Mercury, Antimony, Spirits, and Salts, being dangerous Remedies, in which 
I fhall meddle very little, and with great Caution, but by more fecure, 
gentle, and lefs fallible Medicines, together with the Obfervation of fome 
few Rules in Diet, perfectly cure the Patient, having freed him from all 
the Symptoms, as loofenefs of the Teeth, Scorbutick Spots, want of Appe- 
tite, pains and lafiitude in the Limbs and Joints, efpecially the Legs. And, 
to fay truth, there are few Diftempers in this Nation that are not, or at 
leaft proceed not, originally from the Scurvy; which were it well rooted 
out (as I make no queftion to do it of all thofe who fhall come into my 
hands) there would not be heard of fo many Gouts, Aches, Dropfies, and 
Confumptions : Nay, ev’n thofe thick and flimy Humors which generate 
Stones in the Kidneys, and Bladder, are for the moft part Offsprings of 
the Scurvy. It would prove tedious to fet down all its malignant Race; 
but thofe who addrefs themfelves here, fhall be ftill informed by me in 
the Natures of their Diftempers, and the grounds I proceed upon to their 
cure: So will all reafonable people be fatisfied, that I treat them with Care, 
Honefty, and Underftanding; for I am not of their Opinion, who en- 

( 157 ) 

'■■■'■ 11 ==€ S g = == ' *• 

deavour to render their Vocations rather myfterious, than ufeful and fatif- 

I will not here make a Catalogue of Difeafes and Diftempers; it behoves 
a Phyfician I am fure to underftand them all : But if any one come to me 
(as I think there are very few have efcaped my Praftice) I fhall not be 
alhamed to own to my Patient , where I find my felf to feek, and at leaft 
he fliall be fecure with me from having Experiments tried upon him: a 
priviledge he can never hope to enjoy, either in the hands or the Grand 
DoCtors of the Court and Town, or in thofe of the Idler Quacks and 
Mountebanks. It is thought fit, that I allure you of great Secrefie as well 
as Care in Difeafes, where it is requifite, whether Venereal, or other; as 
fome peculiar to Women, the Green-Sicknefs, WeaknefiTes, Inflammations, 
or ObftruCtions in the Stomach, Reins, Liver, Spleen, &c. (For I would 
put no Word in my Bill that bears any unclean found; it is enough that 
I make my felf underftood; I have feen Phyficians Bills as bawdy, as 
Aretine ' s Dialogues; which no Man that walks warily before God can 
approve of.) But I cure all Suffocations in thofe Parts producing Fits of 
the Mother, Convulfions, Nocturnal Inquietudes, and other ftrange Acci - 
dents, not fit to be fet down here, perfwading young Women very often 
that their Hearts are like to break for Love, when God knows the Dif- 
temper lies far enough from that place. 

Likewife Barrennefs (proceeding from any accidental Caufe, as it often 
falls out, and no natural DefeCt; for Nature is eafily alfifted, difficultly 
reftored, but impoffible to be made more perfect by Man, than God Him- 
felf had at firft created and beftowed it). Cures of this kind I have done 
fignal and many, for the which I doubt not but I have the good Wifhes 
and hearty Prayers of many Families, who had elfe pin’d out their Days 
under the deplorable and reproachful Misfortunes of Barren Wombs, 
leaving plentiful Eftates and Poffeflions, to be inherited by Strangers. 

As to Aftrological Predictions, Phyfiognomy, Divination by Dreams, 
and otherwife (Palmeftry I have not faith in, becaufe there can be no reafon 
be alledg’d for it) my own Experience has convinc’d me more of their con- 
fiderable EffeCts, and marvellous Operations, chiefly in the directions of 
future Proceedings, to the avoiding of Dangers that threaten, and laying 
hold of Advantages that might offer themfelves. 

I fay, my own Practice has convinc’d me more, than all the Sage and 
Wife Writings, extant of thofe Matters: For I might fay this for my felf 
(did it not look like Oftentation) that I have very feldom failed in my Pre- 
dictions, and often been very ferviceable in my Advice; how far I am 
capable in this way, I am fure is not fit to be delivered in Print. 

( 158 ) 


== •• ' =g ^^ ==== 1 " ' ■ — 

Thofe who have no Opinion of the Truth of this Art, will not, I fup- 
pofe, come to me about it; fuch as have, I make no queftion of giving 
them ample fatisfaCtion. 

Nor will I be afhamed to fet down here, my Willingnefs to pra&ife rare 
Secrets, (though fomewhat collateral to my Profeflion) for the Help, Con- 
fervation, and Augmentation of Beauty and Comelinefs: A thing created 
at firft by God, chiefly for the Glory of his own Name, and then for the 
better eftablifhment of mutual Love between Man and Woman: God had 
beftowed on Man the Power of Strength and Wifdom, and thereby ren- 
dred Woman liable to the Subjection of his abfolute Will: it feem’d but 
requifite, that fhe fhould be indued likewife in recompence, with fome 
Quality, that might beget in him admiration of her, and fo inforce his 
Tendernefs and Love. 

The knowledge of thefe Secrets, I gathered in my Travels abroad (where 
I have fpent my time ever lince I was Fifteen Years Old, to this my Nine 
and Twentieth Year) in France , and Italy. Thofe that have travelled in 
Italy , will tell you to what a Miracle Art does there affift Nature in the 
prefervation of Beauty; how Women of Forty bear the fame Countenance 
with thofe of Fifteen ; Ages are no way diftinguifhed by Faces, whereas 
here in England , look a Horfe in the Mouth, and a Woman in the Face, 
you prefently know both their Ages to a Year. I will therefore give you 
fuch Remedies, that without deftroying your Complexion (as moft of your 
Paints and Dawbings do) fhall render them purely fair, clearing and pre- 
ferring them from all Spots, Freckles, Heats, and Pimples, any Marks of 
the Small-Pox, or any other accidental ones, fo the Face be not feam’d or 

I will alfo preferve and cleanfe your Teeth, white and round as Pearls, 
faftning them that are loofe; your Gums fhall be kept entire and red as 
Corral, your Lips of the fame colour, and foft as you could wifh your 
lawful Kiffes. 

I will likewife adminifter that which fhall cure the worft of Breaths, pro- 
vided the Lungs be not totally perifh’d, and impofthumated; as alfo cer- 
tain and infallible Remedies for thofe whofe Breaths are yet untainted, fo 
that nothing but either a very long Sicknefs, or Old Age it felf, fhall ever 
be able to fpoil them. 

I will befides (if it be defired) take away from their Fatnefs who have 
over-much, and add Flefh to thofe that want it, without the leaft detriment 
to their Conftitutions. 

Now fhould Galen himfelf look out of his Grave, and tell me thefe were 
Bawbles below the Profeffion of a Phyfician, I would boldly anfwer him, 
that I take more Glory in preferving God’s Image in its unblemifh’d 

( 159 ) 


T - 

Beauty, upon one good Face, than I ftiould do in patching up all the 
decay’d Carkaffes in the World. 

They that will do me the favour to come to me, lhall be fure from Three 
of the Clock in the Afternoon, till Eight at Night, at my Lodgings in 
Tower-Street , next door to the lign of the Black Swan , at a GoldjmitK s 
Houfe, to find 

Their Humble Servant , 

Alexander Bendo. 





















The Roman General. 
Lieutenant General. 

A Captain. 

Servants to th’ Emperor. 

An Eunuch belonging to Maximus . 

Wife to Maximus. 

Ladies attending Lucina . 

Lewd Women belonging to the Court. 

Friends to Aldus , and Servants to the Emperor. 






The Curtain flies up with the Mufick of Trumpets and Kettle-Drums; and 
dif covers the Emperor faffing through to the Gar den , Attended with a 
great Court. iEcius and Maximus flay behind. 

Maximus. Aldus. 

Max. /'~ > l Reat is the Honour, which our Emperor 

V_J Does by his frequent Yifits throw on Maximus ; 

Not lefs than thrice this Week has his Gay-Court, 

With all its Splendor fliin’d within my Walls: 

Nor does this glorious Sun beftow his Beams 
Upon a barren Soyl; My happy Wife, 

Fruitful in Charms for Valentinian' s Heart, 

Crowns the foft Moments of each welcome Hour, 

With fuch variety of fucceflive Joys, 

That Loft in Love, when the long Day is done, 

He willingly would give his Empire up 
For the Enjoyment of a Minute more, 

While I— 

Made glorious through the Merit of my Wife, 

Am at the Court ador’d as much as She, 

As if the vaft Dominion of the World 
He had Exchang’d with me for my Lucina. 

Mcius. I rather wilh he would Exchange his Paffions, 

Give you his Thiift of Love for yours of Honour. 

And leaving you the due poffeffion 
Of your juft Wifhes in Lucina' s Arms, 

Think how he may by force of Worth and Virtue, 

Maintain the Right of his Imperial Crown, 

( 165 ) 


>g — 1 ===== - a * 

Which he negledts for Garlands made of Rofes ; 

Whilft, in difdain of his ill-guided Youth, 

Whole Provinces fall off, and fcorn to have 
Him for their Prince, who is his Pleafures Slave. 

&!£ Max. I cannot blame the Nations, Noble Friend, 

For falling off fo faff from this wild man, 

When, under our Allegiance be it fpoken, 

And the moft happy Tye of our Affe&ions, 

The whole World groans beneath him: By the Gods, 

I’de rather be a Bondflave to his Panders, 

Conftrain’d by Power to ferve their vicious Wills, 

Than bear the Infamy of being held 
A Favourite to this foul flatter’d Tyrant. 

Where lives Vertue, 

Honour, Difcretion, Wifdom ? Who are call’d 
And chofen to the fteering of his Empire, 

But Whores and Bawds and Traitors ! Oh my JScius, 

The Glory of a Souldier, and the Truth 
Of men made up for Goodnefs fake, like fliells 
Grow to the rugged Walls for want of Adtion, 

Only your happy felf and I that love you, 

Which is a larger means to me than Favour 

Jicius. No more, my worthy Friend, tho’ thefe be Truths, 

And tho’ thefe Truths would ask a Reformation, 

At leaff a little Mending Yet remember 

We are but Subjects, Maximus , Obedience 
To what is done, and Grief for what’s ill done, 

Is all we can call Ours ; The Hearts of Princes 
Are like the Temples of the Gods : pure Incenfe, 

(Till fome unhallow’d Hands defile their Offerings,) 

Burns ever there. We muff not put ’em out 
Becaufe the Priefts, who touch thefe Sweets are wicked. 

We dare not, Deareft Friend; Nay more, we cannot 
(While we conlider whofe we are, and how, 

To what Laws bound, much more to what Lawgiver,) 

While Majefty is made to be obey’d; 

And not enquir’d into. 

Max. Thou befl: of Friends and Men, whofe wife inftruftions 
Are not lefs charitable, weigh but thus much, 

Nor think I fpeak it with Ambition, 

For by the Gods I do not. Why my JScius, 

Why are we thus? or how become thus wretched? 

JScius. You’l fall again into your Fit. 

( 166) 



Max. I will not, 

Or are we now no more the Sons of Romans , 

No more the followers of their mighty Fortunes p 
But conquer’d Gauls, And Quivers for the Parthians : 
Why is the Emperor, this Man we honour, 

This God that ought to be 

Mcius. You are too curious. 

Max. Give me leave, Why is this Author of us ? 

Mcius. I dare not hear you fpeak thus. 

Max. I’l be modeft, 

Thus led away, thus vainly led away, 

And we beholders ! Mifconceive me not, 

I fow no Danger in my Words; but wherefore 
And to what end are we the Sons of Fathers 
Famous and fall to Rome ? Why are their Virtues 
Stampt in the Dangers of a thoufand Battels, 

Their Honours Time out-daring ? 

I think for our Example. 

Mcius. You fpeak well. 

Max. Why are we Seeds of thofe then to fliake hands 
With Bawds and bafe Informers ? Kifs Difcredit, 

And Court her like a Miftrefs ? Pray your leave yet, 
You’l fay th’Emperor’s young, and apt to take 
Impreffion from his Pleafures, 

Yet even his Errors have their good EfFefts, 

For the fame gentle temper which inclines 
His Mind to Softnefs, does his Heart defend 
From favage thoughts of Cruelty and Blood, 

Which throu’ the ftreets of Rome in ftreams did flow 
From Hearts of Senators under the Reigns 
Of our feverer Warlike Emperors ! 

While under this fcarcely one Criminal 
Meets the hard Sentence of the dooming Law, 

And the whole World diflolv’d into a Peace, 

Owes its Security to this Man’s Pleafures; 

But Mcius be fincere, do not defend 

Aftions and Principles your Soul abhors. 

You know this Virtue is his greateft Vice: 

Impunity is the higheft Tyranny: 

And what the fawning Court mifcals his Pleafures, 
Exceeds the Moderation of a Man : 

Nay to fay juffcly, Friend, they are loath’d Vices, 

And fuch as ihake our Worths with Foreign Nations. 



JScius. You fearch the Sore too deep; and let me tell you 
In any Other man, this had been Treafon; 

And fo rewarded: Pray deprefs your Spirit; 

For tho’ I conftantly believe you honeft, 

(You were no Friend for me elfe); and what now 
You freely fpeak, But good you owe to the Empire, 

Yet take heed, Worthy Maximus , all Ears 

Hear not with that diftindtion mine do, few you’l find 

Admonifliers, but Urgers of your Actions, 

And to the Heavieft (Friend) and pray confider 
We are but Shadows, Motions others give us, 

And tho’ our Pities may become the Times, 

Our Powers cannot, nor may we juftifie 
Our private Jealoufies, by open Force; 

Wife or what Elfe to me it matters not, 

I am your Friend, but durft my own Soul urge me, 

And by that Soul I fpeak my juft Affedtions, 

To turn my hand from Truth, which is Obedience, 

And give the Helm my Virtue holds, to Anger, 

Tho’ I had both the Bleffings of the Bruti 
And both their inftigations, tho’ my Caufe 
Carry’d a Face of Juftice beyond theirs, 

And as I am a Servant to my Fortunes, 

That daring Soul that firft taught Difobedience, 

Should feel the firft Example. 

Max. Miftake me not my deareft Mcius, 

Do not believe, that through mean Jealoufie 
How far th’Emperor’s Paffion may prevail 
On my Lucina ' s thoughts to our Diftionour, 

That I abhor the Perfon of my Prince, 

Alas! That Honour were a trivial Lofs 
Which Ihe and I want merit to preferve; 

Virtue and Maximus are plac’d too near 
Lucina 1 s Heart, to leave him fuch a fear; 

No private lofs or wrong, inflames my Spirits, 

The Roman Glory, Mcius, languilhes; 

I am concern’d for Rome, and for the World, 

And when th’Emperor pleafes to afford 
Time from his Pleafures, to take care of thofe, 

I am his Slave, and have a Sword and Life 
Still ready for his Service. 

JEcius. Now you are brave, 

And like a Roman juftly are concern’d: 

( 168 ) 


* "7 *£?-- ' 

But fay he be to blame. Are therefore we 

Fit Fires to purge him? No, My Deareft Friend, 

The Elephant is never won with Anger, 

Nor muft that man who would reclaim a Lion 
Take him by the Teeth. 

Our honeffc Actions, and the Truth that breaks 
Like Morning from our Service chaft and bluffing, 

Is that that pulls a Prince back, then he fees 
And not till then truly repents his Errors. 

Mw. My Heart agrees with yours: I’l take your Council, 
The Emperor appears; let us withdraw 
And as We both do love him, may he flouriff. 

Enter Valentinian and Lucina. 

Val. Which way, Lucina , hope you to efcape 
The Cenfures both of Tyrannous and Proud, 

While your Admirers languilh’d by your Eyes 
And at your feet an Emperor defpairs ! 

Gods ! Why was I mark’d out of all your Brood 
To fuffer tamely under mortal hate? 

Is it not I that do protect your Shrines ? 

Am Author of your Sacrifice and Pray’rs ? 

Fore d by whofe great Commands the knowing World 
Submits to own your Beings and your Power. 

And muft I feel the Torments of Neglect ? 

Betray’d by Love to be the Slave of Scorn? 

But ’tis not you, Poor harmlefs Deities, 

That can make Valentinian figh and mourn ! 

Alas ! All Power is in Lucina ' s Eyes ! 

How foon could I lhake off this heavy Earth 
Which makes me little lower than your felves, 

And fit in Heaven an Equal with the firft; 

But Love bids me purfue a Nobler Aim. 

Continue Mortal, and Lucina ' s Slave, 

From whofe fair Eyes, would pity take my part, 

And bend her Will to fave a bleeding Heart, 

I in Her Arms fuch Bleffings Ihou’d obtain, 

For which th’unenvy’d Gods might wilh in vain. 

Lucin. Ah 1 Ceafe to tempt thofe Gods and Virtue too ! 
Great Emperor of the World and Lord of me! 

Heaven has my Life fubmitted to your Will! 

My Honour’s Heav’ns, which will preferve its own. 

How vile a thing am I when that is gone! 

( ^9 ) 

: 2 >* 



When of my Honour you have rifl’d me, 

What other Merit have I to be yours ? 

With my fair Fame let me your Subject live, 

And fave that Humblenefs you fmile upon, 

Thofe Gracious Looks, whofe brightness fliou’d rejoyce, 
Make your poor Handmaid tremble when Ihe thinks 
That they appear like Lightning’s fatal Flafli, 

Which by deftru&ive Thunder is perfu’d, 

Blafting thofe Fields on which it fliin’d before ! 

And fhou’d the Gods abandon worthlefs Me 
A Sacrifice to fliame and to diflionour, 

A Plague to Rome , and Blot to Cajar' s Fame! 

For what Crime yet unknown fhall Maximus 
By Me and Ccejar be made infamous? 

The faithfull’ft Servant, and the kindeft Lord! 

So true, fo brave, fo gen’rous, and fo juft, 

Who ne’er knew fault: Why fliou’d he fall to Shame? 

Fal. Sweet Innocence! Alas! Your Maximus 
(Whom I, like you, efteem !) is in no Danger 
If Duty and Allegiance be no fliame ! 

Have I not Praetors through the fpacious Earth 
Who in my Name do mighty Nations fway ? 

Enjoying rich Dominions in my Right; 

Their Temporary Governments I change, 

Divide or take away, as I fee good; 

And this they think no Injury nor Shame; 

Can you believe your Husband’s Right to you 
Other than what from me he does derive ? 

Who juftly may recall my own at pleafure; 

Am I not Emperor ? This World my own ? 

Given me without a Partner by the Gods ? 

And fhall thofe Gods who gave me all, allow 
That one lefs than my felf fliould have a Claim 
To you, the Pride and Glory of the whole ? 

You, without whom the reft is worthlefs drofs, 

Life a bafe Slavery, Empire but a Mock, 

And Love, the Soul of all, a bitter Curfe ! 

No, only Bleffing, Maximus and I 
Muft change our Provinces; the World fhall bow 
Beneath my Scepter, grafp’d in his ftrong hand 
Whofe Valour may reduce rebellious Slaves, 

And wife Integrity fecure the reft : 

In all thofe Rights the Gods to me have given ; 

( 170 ) 


,g " ' """ kS? - = = " = = 

While I from tedious Toils of Empire free, 

The fervile Pride of Government defpife! 

Find Peace and Joy, and Love and Heav’n in Thee, 
And feek for all my Glory in thofe Eyes. 

Lucina. Had Heav’n defign’d for me fo great a Fate 
As Cafar ' s Love I fhou’d have been preferv’d, 

By careful Providence for Him alone, 

Not offer’d up at firft to Maximus ; 

For Princes Ihould not mingle with their Slaves, 

Nor feek to quench their Thirft in troubled ftreams. 
Nor am I fram’d with thoughts fit for a Throne. 

To be commanded ftill has been my Joy; 

And to obey the height of my Ambition. 

When young in Anxious Cares I fpent the Day, 
Trembling for fear leaft each unguided ftep 
Should tread the paths of Error and of Blame: 

Till Heav’n in gentle pity fent my Lord, 

In whofe Commands my Wilhes meet their end, 
Pleas’d and fecure while following his Will; 

Whether to live or die I cannot err. 

You like the Sun, Great Sir, are plac’d above, 

I, a low Mirtle, in the humble Yale, 

May flourifh by your diftant influence; 

But fhould you bend your Glories nearer me, 

Such fatal Favour withers me to duff — 

Or I in foolifh gratitude defire 

To kifs your feet, by whom we live and grow, 

To fuch a height I Ihould in vain afpire, 

Who am already rooted here below 
Fixt in my Maximus' % Breaft I lie! 

Torn from that Bed, like gather’d Flow’rs, I die. 

Val. Ceafe to opprefs me with a thoufand Charms ! 
There needs no fuccour to prevailing Arms ! 

Your Beauty had fubdu’d my Heart before, 

Such Virtue could alone enflave me more : 

If you love Maximus to this degree, 

How would you be in Love, Did you love Me ? 

In Her, who to a Hufband is fo kind, 

What Raptures might a Lover hope to find ? 

I burn, Lucina, like a Field of Corn 
By flowing ftreams of kindled Flames ore-born 
When North-winds drive the Torrent with a ftorm ; 
Thefe Fires into my Bofom you have thrown, 

( 171 ^ 




And muft in pity quench ’em in your own : 

Heav’n, when it gave your Eyes th’Inflaming pow’r 
Which was ordain’d to caft an Emperor 
Into Loves Feaver, kindly did impart 
That Sea of Milk to bathe his burning Heart. 

Throu’ all thofe Joys — [Lays hold on Her* 

Lucina. Hold, Sir, for Mercy’s fake 

Love will abhor whatever Force can take. 

I may perhaps perfuade my felf in time 
That this is Duty which now feems a Crime; 

I’l to the Gods and begg they will infpire 
My Breaft or Yours with what it fhou’d defire. 

Val. Fly to their Altars ftrait, and let ’em know 
Now is their time to make me Friend or Foe, 

If to my Wiflies they your Heart incline, 

Or th’are no longer Favourites of mine. [Exit Lucina. 

Ho Chylax, Proculus? 

Enter Chylax, Proculus, Balbus and Lycin. 

As ever you do hope to be by me 
Protected in your boundlefs Infamy, 

For Diflolutenefs cherilh’d, lov’d and prais’d 
On Pyramids of your own Vices rais’d, 

Above the reach of Law, Reproof or Shame, 

Aflift me now to quench my raging Flame. 

’Tis not as heretofore a Lambent Fire, 

Rais’d by fome common Beauty in my Breaft, 

Vapours from Idlenefs or loofe Defire, 

By each new Motion eafily fuppreft, 

But a fixt Heat that robs me of all reft. 

Before my Dazled Eyes cou’d you now place 
A thoufand willing Beauties to allure 
And give me Luft for every loofe Embrace, 

Lucina ' s Love my Virtue would fecure ; 

From the contagious Charm in vain I fly, \ 

’T has feiz’d upon my Heart, and may defie l 

That great Prefervative Variety! i 

Go, call your Wives to Councel, and prepare 
To tempt, diflemble, promife, fawn and fwear, 

To make Faith look like Folly ufe your skill, 

Virtue an ill-bred Crofienefs in the Will, 

Fame, the loofe breathings of a Clamorous Crowd — 

Ever in Lies moft confident and loud ! 

( r 7 2 ) 


; as?-" — «• 

Honour a Notion ! Piety a Cheat! 

And if you prove fuccefsful Bawds, be great. 

Chy. All hindrance to your hopes we’l foon remove, 

And clear the Way to your triumphant Love. 

Bal. Lucina for your Wifhes we’l prepare, 

And lhew we know to merit what we are. [Exeunt. 

Val. Once more the pow’r of Vows and Tears 1*1 prove, 1 

Thefe may perhaps her gentle Nature move, l 

To Pity firffc, by confequence to Love. J 

Poor are the Brutal Conquefts we obtain 
Ore Barb’rous Nations by the force of Arms, 

But when with humble Love a Heart we gain, 

And plant our Trophies on our Conqu’rors Charms, 

Enter iEcius. 

5uch Triumphs ev’n to us may honour bring ; 

Vlo Glory’s vain, which does from Pleafure fpring: 
dow now Mcius! Are the Souldiers quiet? 

Mcius. Better I hope, Sir, than they were. 

Val. Th’are pleas’d I hear 
Co cenfure me extreamly for my Pleafures; 

Shortly they’l fight againft me. 

Mcius. Gods defend, Sir. And for their Cenfures they are 
iuch fhrewd Judges, 

L Donative of ten Sexterces 

’1 undertake lhall make ’em ring your Praifes 

dore than they fung your Pleafures. 

Val. I believe thee ! 
irt thou in Love Mcius yet ? 

Mcius. Oh no, Sir, I am too coarfe for Ladies, my Embraces, 

"hat only am acquainted with Allarms, 

Vduld break their tender Bodies. 

Val. Never fear it. 

'hey are ftronger than you think 

'he Emprefs fwears thou art a Lufty Souldier, 

. good one I believe thee. 

Mcius. All that Goodnefs is but your Creature, Sir. 

Val. But tell me truly, 
or thou dar’ft tell me — 

Mcius. Any thing concerns you 
hat’s fit for me to fpeak, or you to pardon. 

Val. What fay the Souldiers of me ? And the fame Words, 

( 173 ) 



Mince ’em not, good Mcius, But deliver 
The very Forms and Tongues they talk withal. 

Mcius. H tell you, Sir; but with this Caution 
You be not ftirr’d: For fhould the Gods live with us, 

Even thofe we certainly believe are righteous, 

Give ’em but Drink, They’d cenfure them too. 

Val. Forward! 

Mcius. Then to begin. They fay you fleep too much, 

By which they judge you, Sir, too fenfual: 

Apt to decline your ftrength to eafe and pleafure : 

And when you do not fleep, you drink too much; 

From which they fear Sufpitions firft, then Ruine, 

And when you neither drink nor fleep you guefs, Sir, 
Which they affirm firft breaks your Underftanding, 

Then dulls the edge of Honour, makes them feem 
That are the Ribs and Rampires of the Empire, 

Fencers and beaten Fools, and fo regarded: 

But I believe ’em not: for were thefe Truths, 

Your Virtue can correct them. 

Val. They fpeak plainly. 

Mcius, They fay moreover, Sir, fince you will have it; 
For they will take their freedoms tho’ the Sword 
Were at their throats : That of late times like Nero , 

And with the fame forgetfulnefs of Glory, 

You have got a vein of Fidling: So they term it. 

V «/. Some drunken Dreamers, Mcius. 

Mcius. So I hope, Sir. 

They fay befides, you nourifli ftrange Devourers ; 

Fed with the Fat of the Empire, they call Bawds, 

Lazy and luftful Creatures that abufe you. 

V al. What Sin’s next ? for I perceive they have no mind 
To fpare me ! 

Mcius. Nor hurt you, on my Soul, Sir: but fuch people 
(Nor can the pow’r of man reftrain it) 

When they are full of Meat, and Eafe, muft prate. 

Val. Forward. 

Mcius. I have fpoken too much, Sir. 

Val. I’l have all. 

Mcius. It is not fit 

Your Ears fhould hear their Vanities, no profit 
Can juftly arife to you from their Behaviour, 

Unlefs you were guilty of thefe Crimes. 

V al. It may be, I am fo. Therefore forward. 

( 174 ) 


< tsssss = s=s=s==ssg^ssss=sss == 

Mcius. I have ever learn’d to obey. 

Val. No more Apologies. 

Mcius. They grieve befides, Sir, 

To fee the Nations -whom our ancient Virtue 
With many a weary March and Hunger conquer’d 
With Iofs of many a daring Life fubdu’d 
Fall from their fair Obedience, and ev’n murmur 
To fee the Warlike Eagles mew their Honours, 

In obfcure Towns, that us’d to prey on Princes, 

They cry for Enemies, and tell the Captain 
The Fruits of Italy are Lufcious : Give us Mgypt, 

Or fandy Affrick to difplay our Valours, 

There, where our Swords may get us Meat and Dangers ! 
Digeft our well-got Food, for here our Weapons 
And Bodies that were made for fhining Brafs, 

Are both unedg’d and old with Eafe and Women! 

And then they cry again, Where are the Germans 
Lin’d with hot Spain or Gallia ? Bring ’em near: 

And let the Son of War, fteel’d Mithridates 
Pour on us his wing’d Parthians like a ftorm: 

Hiding the face of Heav’n with fhow’rs of Arrows; 

Yet we dare fight like Romans ; then as Souldiers 
Tyr’d with a weary March, they tell their Wounds 
Ev’n weeping ripe, they were no more nor deeper, 

And glory in thefe Scars that make ’em lovely. 

And fitting where a Camp was, like fad Pilgrims 

They reckon up the Times and loading Labours 

Of Julius or Germanicus , and wonder 

That Rome , whofe Turrets once were topt with Honour 

Can now forget the Cuftom of her Conquefts; 

And then they blame you, Sir — And fay, Who leads us ? 
Shall we ftand here like Statues? Were our Fathers 
The Sons of lazy Moors, our Princes Perftans ? 

Nothing but Silk and Softnefs ? Curfes on ’em 
That firft taught Nero Wantonnefs and Blood, 

Tiberius Doubts, Caligula all Vices; 

For from the fpring of thefe fucceeding Princes 

Thus they talk, Sir. 

Val Well! 

Why do you hear thefe things ? 

Mcius. Why do you do ’em? 

I take the Gods to witnefs with more forrow 

( 175 ) 


ga "" > 

And more vexation hear I thefe Reproaches 

Than were my Life dropt from me through an Hour-Glafs. 

Val. ’Tis like then you believe ’em or at leaft 
Are glad they fhould be fo: Take heed — you were better 
Build your own Tomb, and run into it living 
Than dare a Prince’s Anger. 

Mans. I am old, Sir: 

And ten years more addition is but nothing : 

Now if my Life be pleafing to you, take it. 

Upon my knees, if ever any Service 

(As let me brag, fome have been worthy notice !) 

If ever any Worth or Truft you gave me 
Deferv’d a Favour, Sir; If all my Aftions 
The hazards of my Youth, Colds, Burnings, Wants 
For You and for the Empire be not Vices : 

By the ftile you have ftampt upon me, Souldier ! 

Let me not fall into the Hands of Wretches. 

Val. I underftand you not. 

Mcius. Let not this Body 
That has look’d bravely in his Blood for C*efar, 

And covetous of Wounds, and for your fafety, 

After the fcape of Swords, Spears, Slings and Arrows, 

’Gainft which my beaten Body was my Armor! 

Throu’ Seas, and thirfty Defarts, now be purchace 
For Slaves and bafe informers : I fee Anger 
And Death, look throu’ your Eyes — I am markt for 
Slaughter, and know the telling of this Truth has made Me, 

A man clean loft to this World — I embrace it, 

Only my laft Petition, Sacred Cajar! 

Is, I may die a Roman. 

Val. Rife! my Friend ftill, 

And worthy of my Love: Reclaim the Souldiers! 

I’l ftudy to do fo upon my felf. 

Go — keep your Command and profper. 

Mcius. Life to Cajar. Exit. 

Val. The Honefty of this Mcius , 

Who is indeed the Bulwark of my Empire 
Is to be cherifht for the good it brings, 

Not valu’d as a Merit in the Owner ! 

All Princes are Slaves bound up by Gratitude, 

And Duty has no Claim beyond Acknowledgment 
Which I’l pay Mcius , whom I ftill have found 
Dull, faithful, humble, vigilant and brave: 

( ) 


•* — — = = == == = $ Q£== SSSSS ' , ==> 

Talents as I could wifli ’em for my Slave: 

But oh this Woman ! 

Is it a Sin to love this lovely Woman ? 

No: She is fuch a Pleafure, being good; 

That though I were a God, fhee’d fire my Blood. Exit. 

The End of the Firji Aft. 


Enter Balbus, Proculus, Chylax, Lycinius. 

Bal. T Never faw the like file’s no more ftirr’d, 

X No more another Woman, no more alter’d 
With any Hopes or Promifes laid to her, 

Let them be ne’r fo weighty, ne’r fo winning, 

Than I am with the motion of my own Legs. 

Proc. Chylax l 

You are a ftranger yet in thefe Defigns, 

At leaft in Rome, tell me, and tell me truth 
Did you e’er know in all your courfe of Practice 
In all the ways of Women you have run through, 

For I prefume you have been brought up, Chylax , 

As we, to fetch and carry 

Chyl. True — I have fo. 

Proc. Did you, I fay again in all this Progrefs 
Ever difcover fuch a piece of Beauty 
Ever fo rare a Creature, and no doubt 
One that muft know her worth too and affe£t it, 

Ay, and be flatter’d, elfe ’tis none: and honeft, 

Honeft againft the Tide of all Temptations ? 

Honeft to one Man, and to her Husband only, 

And yet not Eighteen, not of Age to know 
Why file is honeft? 

Chyl. I confefs it freely, 

I never faw her Fellow, nor ever fliall : 

For all our Gracian Dames as I have try’d 
And fure I have try’d a hundred — if I fay Two 
I fpeak within my Compafs: All thefe Beauties 
n ( 1 77) 


•* — = sSa "" *• 

And all the Conftancy of all thefe Faces 

Maids, Widdows, Wives, of what Degree or Calling 

So they be Greeks and fat: for there’s my Cunning, 

I would undertake, and not fweat for’t: Proculus , 

Were they to try again, fay twice as many 
Under a Thoufand pound to lay them flat: 

But this Wench flaggers me. 

Lycin. Do you fee thefe Jewels? 

You would think thefe pretty Baits now; I’l aflfure you 
Here’s half the Wealth of Afia. 

Bal. Thefe are nothing 
To the full Honours I propounded to her. 

I bid her think and be, and prefently 
Whatever her Ambition, what the Council 
Of others would add to her, What her Dreams 
Could more enlarge, What any Prefident 
Of any Woman riling up to Glory; 

And ftanding certain there, and in the higheft 

Could give her more, Nay to be Emprefs 

Proc. And cold at all thefe Offers ? 

Bal. Cold as Cryftal, 

Never to be thaw’d. 

Chy. I try’d her further: 

And fo far that I think fhe is no Woman, 

At leaffc as Women go now. 

Lycin. Why what did you? 

Chy . I offered that, that had fhe been but Miftrefs 
Of as much fpleen as Doves have, I had reach’d Her 
A fafe Revenge of all that ever hate her, 

The crying down for ever of all Beauties 
That may be thought come near her. 

Proc. That was pretty. 

Chy. I never knew that way fail; yet I tell you, 

I offer’d her a Gift beyond all yours 

That, that had made a Saint ftart, well confider’d; 

The Law to be her Creature; fhe to make it, 

Her Mouth to give it; Every thing alive 
From her AfpeS: to draw their Good or Evil 
Fixt in ’em fpight of Fortune, a new Nature 
She fhould be call’d, and Mother of all Ages ; 

Time fhould be hers, what fhe did, flatt’ring Virtues 

Should blefs to all Pofterities, Her Air 

Should give us Life, Her Earth and Water feed us, 

( US ) 


— 23 ?— " t . 

And laft to none but to the Emp’ror. 

(And then but when fhe pleas’d to have it fo) 

She fhould be held a Mortal. 

Lycin. And fhe heard you? 

Chy. Yes, as a fick man hears a Noife, or he 
That ftands condemn’d, his Judgment. 

Well, if there can be Virtue, if that Name 
Be any thing but Name, and empty Title, 

If it be fo as Fools are us’d to feign it, 

A Power that can preferve us after Death, 

And make the Names of Men out-reckon Ages, 

This Woman has a God of Virtue in her. 

Bal. I would the Emperor were that God. 

Chy. She has in her 

All the Contempt of Glory, and vain feeming 
Of all the Stoicks, All the Truth of Chriftians, 

And all their Conftancy; Modefty was made 
When fhe was firft intended; When fhe blufhes 
It is the holieft thing to look upon; 

The pureft Temple of her Sex, that ever 
Made Nature a bleft Founder, 

If fhe were any way inclining 
To Eafe or Pleafure, or affedted Glory, 

Proud to be feen or worfhipp’d, ’twere a Venture: 

But on my Soul fhe is chaffer than cold Camphire. 

Bal. I think fo too: For all the ways of Woman 
Like a full fail fhe bears againft : I askt her 
After my many Offers, walking with her, 

And her many down Denials, How 

If the Emperor grown mad with Love fhould force her ? 

She pointed to a Lucrece that hung by, 

And with an angry Look — that from her Eyes 
Shot Veftal Fire againft me; fhe departed. 

Pro. This is the firft Woman I was ever pos’d in, 

Yet I have brought young loving things together 
This two and thirty Year. 

Chyl. I find by this fair Lady 
The Calling of a Bawd to be a ftrange 
A wife and fubtle Calling: And for none 
But ftaid, difcreet and underftanding People: 

And as the Tutor to great Alexander 

Would fay, A young man fhould not dare to read 

His Moral Books till after five and twenty, 

( 179 ) 


So muft that He or She that will be Bawdy, 

(I mean difcreetly Bawdy, and be trailed) 

If they will rife and gain Experience 

Well fteept in Years and Difcipline, begin it 

I take it ’tis no Boys Play. 

Bal. What’s to be thought of? 

Proc. The Emperor muft know it. 

Lycin. If the Women fhould chance to fail too — 

Chy. As ’tis ten to one. 

Proc. Why what remains but new Nets for the purpofe 

Th’ Emperor. 

Enter Yalentinian. 

Emp. What! have you brought Her? 

Chy. Brought her, Sir ! Alas, 

What would you do with fuch a Cake of Ice 
Whom all the Love i’th’ Empire cannot thaw? 

A dull crofs thing, infenlible of Glory, 

Deaf to all Promifes, dead to Defire, 

A tedious ftickler for her Husband’s Rights, 

Who like a Beggars Curr hath brought her up 
To fawn on him, and bark at all befides. 

Emp. Lewd and ill-manner’d Fool, wer’t not for fear 
To do thee good by mending of thy Manners 
I’d have thee whiptl Is this th’account you bring 
To eafe the Torments of my reftlefs mind. 

Ball. 1 Cajar! In vain your Vafials have endeavour’d 
Kneeling. J By Promifes, Perfwafions, Reafons, Wealth, 

All that can make the firmeft Virtue bend 
To alter Her. Our Arguments like Darts 
Shot in the Bofom of the boundlefs Air 
Are loft and do not leave the leaft Impreffion; 

Forgive us, if we fail’d to overcome 
Vertue that could refift the Emperor. 

Emp. You impotent Provokers of my Luft, 

Who can incite and have no power to help, 

How dare you be alive and I unfatisfied, 

Who to your Beings have no other Title 
Nor leaft Hopes to preferve ’em, but my Smiles ; 

Who play like poyfonous Infedfe all the Day 
In the warm Shine of Me your Vital Sun ; 

And when Night comes muft perifh 

Wretches ! whofe vicious Lives when I withdraw 

( 1 8b ) 


• g '"""' 1 £&= 

The Abfolute Protection of my Favour 
Will drag you into all the Miferies 
That your own Terrors, Univerfal Hate, 

And Law, with Jayls and Whips can bring upon^you; 
As you have fail’d to fatisfie my Wifhes, 

Perdition is the leaft you can expeCt 
Who durft to undertake and not perform! 

Slaves! was it fit I £hould be difappointed ? 

Yet live 

Continue infamous a little longer; 

You have deferv’d to end. But for this once 
I’l not tread out your nafty fnuffs of Life; 

But had your poyfonous Flatteries prevail’d 
Upon her Chaftity I fo admire, 

A Virtue that adds Fury to my Flames! 

Dogs had devour’d e’re this your Carcaffes; 

Is that an ObjeCfc fit for my Defires 

Which lies within the reach of your perfuafions ! 

Had you by your infectious Induftry \ 

Shew’d my Lucina frail to that degree, j- 

You had been damn’d for undeceiving me; i 
But to poffefs her chafte and uncorrupted, 

There lies the Joy and Glory of my Love! 

A Paffion too refin’d for your dull Souls, 

And fuch a Bleffing as I fcorn to owe 
The gaining of to any but my felf: 

Hafte ftrait to Maximus , and let him know 
He muft come inftantly and fpeak with me; 

The reft of you wait here — I’le play to night. 

You, fawcy Fool! fend privately away 
For Lycias hither by the Garden Gate, 

That fweet-fac’d Eunuch that fung 
In Maximus ' s Grove the other day, 

And in my Clofet keep him till I come. 

Chyl. I fhall, Sir. 

’Tis a foft Rogue, this Lycias 
And rightly underftood, 

Hee’s worth a thoufand Womens Niceneffes ! 

The Love of Women moves even with their Luft, 
Who therefore ftill are fond, but feldom juft: 

Their Love is Ufury, while they pretend, 

To gain the Pleafure double which they lend. 

But a dear Boy’s difinterefted Flame 

( 181 ) 

[To Chylax. 

[Exit Valent. 



Gives Pleafure, and for meer Love gathers pain; 

In him alone Fondnefs fincere does prove, 

And the kind tender Naked Boy is Love. [Exit. 


Enter Lucina, Ardelia and Phorba. 

Ard. You ftill infift upon that Idol Honour, 

Can it renew your Youth ? Can it add Wealth ? 

Or take off wrinkles ? Can it draw mens Eyes 
To gaze upon you in your Age ? Can Honour 
That truly is a Saint to none but Souldiers, 

And lookt into, bears no Reward but Danger, 

Leave you the moll: refpe&ed Woman living? 

Or can the common Kiffes of a Husband 
(Which to a Sprightly Lady is a Labour) 

Make you almoft immortal ? You are cozen’d, 

The Honour of a Woman is her Praifes, 

The way to get thefe, to be feen and fought too, 

And not to bury fuch a happy Sweetnefs 
Under a fmoaking Roof. 

Lucina. I’l hear no more. 

Phorb. That White and Red, and all that blooming Beauty, 

Kept from the Eyes that make it fo is nothing: 

Then you are truly fair when men proclaim it: 

The Phcenix that was never feen is doubted, 

But when the Virtue’s known, the Honour’s doubled: 

Virtue is either lame or not at all, 

And Love a Sacriledge and not a Saint, 

When it barrs up the way to mens Petitions. 

Ard. Nay you lhall love your Husband too; We 
Come not to make a Monfter of you. 

Lucin. Are you Women ? 

Ard. You’l find us fo; and women you lhall thank too 
If you have but Grace to make your Ufe. 

Lucin. Fie on you. 

Phor. Alas, poor balhful Lady! By my Soul 
Had you no other Virtue but your Blulhes, 

And I a man, I Ihould run mad for thofe ! 

How prettily they fet her off! how fweetly! 

Ard. Come, Goddefs, come! you move too near the Earth, 

It muff not be, a better Orb ftays for you. 

( 182 ) 


<Sr — * * 

Lucin. Pray leave me. 

Phorb. That were a Sin, fweet Madam, and a way 
To make us guilty of your Melancholy, 

You muft not be alone; In Converfation 

Doubts are refolv’d, and what flicks near the Confcience 

Made ealie and allowable. 

Lucin. Ye are Devils. 

Ard. That you may one day blefs for your Damnation. 

Lucin. I charge you in the Name of Chaftity 
Tempt me no more: how ugly you feem to me! 

There’s no wonder Men defame our Sex, 

And lay the Vices of all Ages on us, 

When fuch as you fhall bear the Name of Women! 

If you had Eyes to fee your felves, or fence, 

Above the bafe Rewards yee earn with Ihame! 

If ever in your Lives yee heard of Goodnefs 

Tho’ many Regions off, — as men hear Thunder 

If ever you had Fathers, and they Souls, 

Or ever Mothers, and not fuch as you are! 

If ever any thing were conftant in you 
Befides your Sins ! 

If any of your Anceftors 

Dy’d worth a Noble Deed — that would be cherifh’d, 

Soul-frighted with this black Infection, 

You would run from one anothers Repentance, 

And from your Guilty Eyes drop out thofe Sins 
That made ye blind and Beafts. 

Phorb. You fpeak well, Madam! 

A Sign of fruitful Education 

If your religious Zeal had Wifdom with it. 

Ard. This Lady was ordain’d to blefs the Empire, 

And we may all give thanks for Her. 

Phorb. I believe you. 

Ard. If any thing redeem the Emperor 
From his wild flying Courfes this is file! 

She can inftrudt him — if you mark — file’s wife too. 

Phor. Exceeding wife, which is a wonder in her; 

And fo religious that I well believe, 

Tho’ file wou’d fin file cannot. 

Ard. And befides 

She has the Empire’s Caufe in hand, not Love’s, 

There lies the main confideration 
For which file is chiefly born. 

( 183 ) 



ga ■ 

Phorb. She finds that Point 
Stronger than we can tell her, and believe it 
I look by her means for a Reformation, 

And fuch a one, and fuch a rare way carry’d. 

Ard. I never thought the Emperor had wifdom, 
Pity, or fair Affedtion to his Country, 

Till he profeft this Love. Gods give ’em Children 
Such as her Virtues merit and his Zeal; - 
I look to fee a Numa from this Lady, 

Or greater than Ofiavius. 

Phor. Do you mark too 

Which is a noble Virtue — how £he bluflies, 

And what flowing Modefty runs through her 
When we but name the Emperor. 

Ard. Mark it! 

Yes, and admire it too: for flie confiders 
Tho’ flie be fair as Heav’n, and Virtuous 
As holy Truth; Yet to the Emperor 
She is a kind of Nothing — but her Service, 

Which flie is bound to offer, and fhe’l do it; 

And when her Countries Caufe commands Affedtion, 
She knows Obedience is the Key of Virtues ; 

Then fly the Bluflies out like Cupid's Arrows, 

And though the Tie of Marriage to her Lord, 

Would fain cry, flay Lucina yet the Caufe 

And general Wifdom of the Prince’s Love 
Makes her find furer Ends and happier, 

And if the firft were chafte thefe are twice doubled. 

Phor . Her Tartnefs to us too. 

Ard. That’s a wife one. 

Phor. I like it, it fliews a riling Wifdom, 

That chides all common Fools who dare enquire 
What Princes would have private. 

Ard. What a Lady fhall we be bleft to ferve ? 

Lucin. Go — get you from me, 

Yee are your Purfes Agents not the Princes, 

Is this the virtuous Love you train’d me out to? 

Am I a Woman fit to Imp your Vices ? 

But that I had a Mother and a Woman 
Whofe ever living Fame turns all it touches 
Into the Good, it felf was, I fliould now 
Even doubt my felf; I have been fearcht fo near 
The very Soul of Honour. Why fliou’d you Two 

( 184 ) 



That happily have been as chafte as I am ! 

Fairer I think by much (For yet your Faces 
Like Ancient well-built Piles ftiew worthy Ruines) 

After that Angel Age, turn mortal Devils ? 

For Shame, for Womanhood, for what you have been 
(For rotten Cedars have born goodly Branches) 

If you have hope of any Heav’n but Court 
Which like a Dream you’l find hereafter vanilh; 

Or at the beft but fubject to Repentance, 

Study no more to be ill fpoken of. 

Let Women live themfelves; if they muft fail; 

Their own Deftru&ion find ’em. 

Ard. You are fo excellent in all 
That I muft tell it you with Admiration ! 

So true a joy you have, fo fweet a fear! 

And when you come to Anger — ’Tis fo noble 
That for my own part I could ftill offend 
To hear you angry: Women that want that, 

And your way guided (elfe I count it nothing) 

Are either Fools or Fearful. 

Phorb. She were no Miftrefs for the World’s great Lord 
Could fhe not frown a ravifht Kifs from Anger, 

And fuch an Anger as this Lady fhews us 
Stuck with fuch pleafing Dangers (Gods I ask yee) 

Which of you all could hold from ? 

Lucin. I perceive you, 

Your own dark Sins dwell with you and that price 
You fell the Chaftity of modeft Wives at, 

Run to Difeafes with you — I defpife you, 

And all the Nets you have pitcht to catch my Virtue, 

Like Spiders webs I fweep away before me! 

Go! tell th’Emperor, You have met a Woman, 

That neither his own Perfon, which is God-like, 

The World he rules, nor what that World can purchafe, 
Nor all the Glories fubjeft to a Ceefar! 

The Honours that he offers for my Honour, 

The Hopes, the Gifts, and everlafting Flatteries, 

Nor any thing that’s His, and apt to tempt 

No ! not to be the Mother of the Empire 
And Queen of all the holy Fires he worlhips, 

Can make a Whore of. 

Ard. You miftake us, Madam. 

Lucin. Yet tell him this, h’as thus much weaken’d me 

( 185 ) 


I" J^££ 2g2^S==£Qfc ====S=S ^ = ^^ SSS===BS==SS ‘ 

That I have heard his Slaves and you his Matrons, 

Fit Nurfes for his Sins ! which Gods forgive me. 

But ever to be leaning to his Folly, 

Or to be brought to love his Vice Aflure him 

And from her Mouth, whofe Life fihall make it certain, 

I never can; I have a Noble Husband 
Pray tell him that too: Yet a Noble Name, 

A Noble Family, and laft a Confcience. 

Thus much by way of Anfwer; for your felves 

You have liv’d the £hame of Women — die the better. \Ex. Luc. 

Phor. What’s now to do? 

Ard. Even as fhe faid, to die. 

For there’s no living here and Women thus, 

I am fure for us two. 

Phor . Nothing flicks upon her ? 

Ard. We have loft a Mafs of Money. Well Dame Virtue, 

Yet you may halt if good Luck ferve! 

Phor. Worms take her. 

Ard. So Godly — 

This is ill Breeding, Phorha. 

Phor. If the Women 

Should have a longing now to fee the Monfter 
And ihe convert ’em all ! 

Ard. That may be, Phorha ! 

But if it be I’l have the Young men hang’d, 

— Come — let’s go think — flie muft not fcape us thus. [Exeunt. 


The Scene opens, and dif covers the Emperor at Dice. 

Maximus. Lycin. Proc. and Chylax. 

Emp. XTAy! fet my Hand out: ’Tis not juft 

J_\| I fliould negleft my Luck when ’tis fo profp’rous: 
Chy. If I have any thing to fet you, Sir, but Cloaths 
And good Conditions, let me perifh; 

You have all my Money. 

Proc. And mine. 

( 186) 


* — €&= i * 

Lycin. And mine too. 

Max. You may trull us lure till to morrow. 

Or if you pleafe, FI fend home for Money prefently. 

Emp. ’Tis already Morning, and flaying will be tedious. 

My Luck will vanifh ere your Money comes. 

Chy. Shall we redeem ’em if we fet our Houfes? 

Emp. Yes fairly. 

Chy. That at my Villa 

Emp. At it ’Tis mine. 

Chy. Then farewel, Fig-Trees : For I can ne’r redeem 'em. 

Emp. Who fets ? Set any thing. 

Lycin. At my Horfe. 

Emp. The Dapple Spaniard ? 

Lycin. He. 

Emp. He’s mine. 

Lycin. He is fo. 

Max. Hah! 

Lycin. Nothing my Lord ! But Pox on my Damn’d Fortune. 

Emp. Come Maximus ; You were not wont to flinch. 

Max. By Heaven, Sir, I have not a Penny. 

Emp. Then that Ring. 

Max. O Good Sir, This was not given to lofe. 

Emp. Some Love-Token Set it I fay! 

Max. I beg you, Sir. 

Emp. How filly and how fond you are grown of Toys' 

Max. Shall I redeem it? 

Emp. When you pleafe to morrow 
Or next day as you will : I do not care, 

Only for luck-fake 

Max. There Sir, will you throw ? 

Emp. Why then, have at it fairly; the laft flake! 

’Tis mine. 

Max. Y’re ever fortunate! to morrow 
FI bring you what you pleafe to think it worth. 

Emp. Then your Arabian Horfe : but for this night 
FI wear it as my Vidlory. 

Enter Balbus. 

Balb. From the Camp 
Mcius in hafte has fent thefe Letters, Sir; 

It feems the Cohorts mutiny for Pay. 

Emp. Maximus — This is ill News. Next week they are to marrh. 

You muft away immediately; no flay, 

No, not fo much as to take leave at home. 

( 187) 


« - > 

This careful hafle may probably appeafe ’em; 

Send word, what are their Numbers; 

And Money fhall be fent to pay ’em all. 

Befides fomething by way of Donative. 

Max. I’l not delay a moment, Sir, 

The Gods preferve you in this mind for ever. 

Emp. I’l fee ’em march my felf. 

Max. Gods ever keep you [Exit Max. 

Emp. To what end now de’e think this Ring fhall ferve ? 

For you are the dull’ft and the verieft Rogues — 

Fellows that know only by roat, as Birds 
Whiffle and fing. 

Chy. Why, Sir, ’tis for the Lady. 

Emp. The Lady! Blockhead! which end of the Lady? 

Her Nofe! 

Chy. Faith, Sir, that I know not. [Exit Chylax. 

Emp. Then pray for him that does 

Fetch in the Eunuch; 

You! See th’ Apartment made very fine 
That lies upon the Garden — Masks and Mufick 
With the belt fpeed you can. And all your Arts 
Serve to the higheft, for my Mafter-piece 
Is now on foot. 

Proc. Sir, we fhall have a care. 

Emp. I’l fleep an hour or two; and let the Women 
Put on a graver fhew of Welcome ! 

Your Wives! they are fuch Haggard-Bawds, 

A Thought too eager. [ Enter Chyl ?and Lycias. 

Chy. Here’s Lycias , Sir. 

Lyc. Long Life to mighty Cajar. 

Emp. Fortune to thee, for I muffc ufe thee Lycias. 

Lyc. I am the humble Slave of C ajar's Will, 

By my Ambition bound to his Commands 
As by my duty. 

Emp. Follow me. 

Lyc. With Joy. [Exeunt. 


Enter Lucina. 

Lucin. Dear folitary Groves where Peace does dwell, 

Sweet Harbours of pure Love and Innocence! 

How willingly could I for ever flay 

( 188) 

: 3 > 


« - 

Beneath the fihade of your embracing Greens, 
Liftning to Harmony of warbling Birds, 

Tun’d with the gentle Murmurs of the Streams, 
Upon whofe Banks in various Livery 
The fragrant offspring of the early Year, 

Their Heads like graceful Swans bent proudly down, 
See their own Beauties in the Cryftal Flood ? 

Of thefe I could myfterious Chaplets weave, 
Exprefling fome kind innocent Defign 
To {hew my Maximus at his Return 
And fondly chiding make his Heart confefs 
How far my bufie Idlenefs excels 
The idle Bufinefs he perfues all day 
At the contentious Court or clamorous Camp, 
Robbing my Eyes of what they love to fee, 

My Ears of his dear Words they wi£h to hear, 

My longing Arms of th’Embrace they covet. 

Forgive me, Heav’n! if when I thefe enjoy, 

So perfect is the happinefs I find 

That my Soul fatisfi’d feels no Ambition 

To change thefe humble Roofs and fit above. 

Enter Marcellina. 

Marc. Madam, My Lord juft: now alighted here, 
Was by an Order from th’ Emperor 
Call’d back to Court! 

This he commanded me to let you know, 

And that he would make hafte in his return. 

Lucin. The Emperor! 

Unwonted Horror feizes me all o’re, 

When I but hear him nam’d: fure ’tis not Hate; 

For tho’ his impious Love with fcorn I heard, 

And fled with terror from his threatning force, 

Duty commands me humbly to forgive 

And blefs the Lord to whom my Lord does bow! 

Nay more methinks he is the gracefulleft man, 

His Words fo fram’d to tempt, himfelf to pleafe, 
That ’tis my wonder how the Pow’rs above, 

Thofe wife and careful Guardians of the Good, 

Have trufted fuch a force of tempting Charms 
To Enemies declar’d of Innocence! 

’Tis then fome ftrange Prophetick Fear I feel 
That feems to warn me of approaching Ills. 

( 189) 


Go Marcellina , fetch your Lute, and fing that Song 

My Lord calls his: 1*1 try to wear away 

The Melancholy Thoughts his Abfence breeds! 

Come gentle Slumbers ! In your flattering Arms 
FI bury thefe Difquiets of my Mind 
Till Maximus returns — for when he’s here 
My Heart is rais’d above the reach of Fear. 

Marcellina fings 

SONG. By Mr. W. . 

W Here wou'd coy Aminta run 

From a def pairing Lovers Storys' 

When her Eyes have Conquejls won , 

Why fhou'd her Ear refuje the Glory? 

Shall a Slave whom Racks conftrain 
Be forbidden to complain ? 

Let her f corn me, let her fly me, 

Let her Lookes her Life deny me. 

Nere can my Heart change for Relief, 

Or my Tongue ceafe to tell my Grief ; 

Much to Love and much to Pray 
Is to Heaven the only Way. 

Mar. She fleeps. [The Song ended, Exeunt Claudia 

and Marcellina before the Dance. 

SCENE 3 . Dance of Satyrs. 

Enter Claudia and Marcellina to Lucina. 

Claud. Prithee, what ails my Lady, that of late 
She never cares for Company ? 

Marc. I know not 

Unlefs it be that Company caufes Cuckolds. 

Claud. Ridiculous! That were a Childifh Fear! 
’Tis Opportunity does caufe ’em rather, 

When two made one are glad to be alone. 

Marc. But Claudia — Why this fitting up all Night 
In Groves by purling ftreams ? This argues Heatl 
Great Heat and Vapors, which are main Corrupters ! 

( Wo ) 


Mark when you will; Your Ladies that have Vapors, 
They are not Flinchers; that infulting Spleen 
Is the Artillery of pow’rful Luft, 

Difcharg’d upon weak Honour which Hands out 
Two Fits of Head-Ach, at the moft, then yields. 

Claudia. Thou art the fraileft Creature, Marcellina ! 
And think’ft all Womens Honours like thy own ! 

So thin a Cobweb that each blaft of Paffion 
Can blow away: But for my own part, Girl 1 
I think I may be well ftil’d Honours Martyr. 

With firmeft Conftancy I have endur’d 
The raging Heats of paflionate Defires 1 
While flaming Love and boyling Nature both 
Were pour’d upon my Soul with equal Torture : 

I, arm’d with Refolution flood it out 
And kept my Honour fafe. 

Marc. Thy Glory’s great! 

But, Claudia , Thanks to Heav’n that I am made 
The weakefl of all women: fram’d fo frail 
That Honour ne’er thought fit to chufe me out 
His Champion againft Pleafure: my poor Heart 
For divers years flill toft from Flame to Flame, 

Is now burnt up to Tinder; every Spark 
Dropt from kind Eyes fets it a-fire afrefh; 

Preft by a gentle hand I melt away ; 

One Sigh’s a Storm that blows me all along; 

Pity a wretch, who has no Charm at all, 

Againft th’impetuous Tide of flowing Pleafure, 

Who wants both Force and Courage to maintain 
The glorious War made upon Flefh and Blood, 

But is a Sacrifice to every wifh 
And has no power left to refift a Joy. 

Claud. Poor Girl 1 How ftrange a Riddle Virtue js ? 
They never mils it who poffefs it not; 

And they who have it ever find a want. 

With what Tranquility and Peace thou liv’ft! 

For ftript of Shame Thou haft no caufe to fear; 

While I the Slave of Virtue am afraid 
Of every thing I fee: And think the World 
A dreadful wildernefs of favage Beafts; 

Each man I meet I fancy will devour me; 

And fway’d by Rules not natural but affedled 
I hate Mankind for fear of being lov’d. 

( I9 1 ) 

! 3 >« 


■° e£5 ===== 

Marc. ’Tis nothing lefs than Witchcraft can conftrain 
Still to perfift in Errors we perceive ! 

Prithee reform; what Nature prompts us to. 

And Reafon feconds, why fhould we avoid ? 

This Honour is the verieft Mountebank, 

It fits our Fancies with affected Tricks 

And makes us freakifh; what a Cheat muft that be 

Which robs our Lives of all their fofter hours, 

Beauty, our only Treafure it lays wafte, 

Hurries us over our negle&ed Youth, 

To the detefted ftate of Age and Uglinefs, 

Tearing our deareft Hearts Defires from us. 

Then in reward of what it took away, 

Our Joys, our Hopes, our Wifhes and Delights 
It bountifully pays us all with Pride! 

Poor fhiftsl ftill to be proud and never pleas’d, 

Yet this is all your Honour can do for you. 

Claud. Concluded like thy felf, for fure thou art 
The moft corrupt corrupting thing alive, 

Yet glory not too much in cheating Wit: 

’Tis but falfe Wifdom; and its Property 
Has ever been to take the part of Vice, 

Which tho’ the Fancy with vain fhows it pleafe, 

Yet wants a power to fatisfie the Mind. 

Lucina wakes. 

Claud. But fee my Lady wakes and comes this way. 

Blefs me! how pale and how confus’d £he looks! 

Luc. In what Fantaftique new world have I been ? 

What Horrors paft ? what threatning Vifions feen ? 

Wrapt as I lay in my amazing Trance, 

The Hoft of Heav’n and Hell did round me Dance : 

Debates arofe betwixt the Pow’rs above 

And thofe below: Methought they talkt of Love, 

And nam’d me often ; but it could not be 
Of any Love that had to do with me. 

For all the while they talk’d and argu’d thus, 

I never heard one word of Maximus. 

Difcourteous Nymphs ! who own thefe murmuring Floods 
And you unkind Divinities o’th’ Woods ! 

When to your Banks and Bowers I came diftreft 
Half dead throu’ Abfence feeking Peace and Reft, 

Why would you not protect by thefe your Streams 
A Seeping wretch from fuch wild difmal Dreams ? 

( l 9 2 ) 


« ■ ; 0 = 

Mifhapen Monfters round in Meafures went 
Horrid in Form with Geftures infolent; 

Grinning throu’ Goatifh Beards with half clos’d Eyes, 
They look’d me in the face, frighted to rife! 

In vain I did attempt, methought no Ground 
Was to fupport my finking Footfteps found. 

In clammy Fogs like one half choak’d I lay, 

Crying for help my Voyce was fnatch’d away. 

And when I would have fled, 

My Limbs benumm’d, or dead. 

Could not my Will with Terror wing’d obey. 

Upon my abfent Lord for help I cry’d 
But in that Moment when I muff have dy’d, 

With Anguifh of my Fears confufing pains 
Relenting Sleep loos’d his Tyrannick Chains. 

Claud. Madam, Alas fuch Accidents as thefe 
Are not of value to difturb your Peace ! 

The cold damp Dews of Night have mixt and wrought 
With the dark Melancholy of your Thought. 

And throu’ your Fancy thefe Illufions brought. 

I ftill have markt your Fondnefs will afford 
No hour of Joy in th’ abfence of my Lord. 

Enter Lycias. 

Lucin. Abfent, all night — and never fend me word r 
Lycias. Madam, while fleeping by thofe Banks you lay 
One from my Lord commanded me away. 

In all obedient hafte I went to Court, 

Where bufie Crowds confus’dly did refort; 

News from the Camp it feems was then arriv’d 
Of Tumults rais’d and Civil Wars contriv’d; 

The Emperor frighted from his Bed does call 

Grave Senators to Council in the Hall 

Throngs of ill-favour’d Faces fill’d with Scars 
Wait for Employments, praying hard for Wars. 

At Council Door, attend with fair pretence, \ 

In Knavifh Decency and Reverence, [ 

Banquers, who with officious Diligence / 

Lend Money to fupply the prefent need 
At treble Ufe that greater may fucceed; !■ 

So publick Wants will private Plenty breed, > 
Whifp’ring in every Corner you might fee. 
o ( 193 ) 

A Ring! 


*<! ==== = ■ <£ &= 

Lucin . But what’s all this to Maximus and me ? 

Where is my Lord ? what MefTage has he fent ? 

Is he in Health ? What fatal Accident, l 

Does all this while his wifht Return prevent? / 

Lycias . When ere the Gods that happy hour decree, 

May he appear fafe and with Vidlory ; 

Of many Hero’s who flood Candidate 
To be the Arbiters ’twixt Rome and Fate, 

To quell Rebellion and protedl the Throne 
A Choice was made of Maximus alone; 

The People, Souldiers, Senate, Emperor 
For Maximus with one confent concur. 

Their new born hopes now hurry him away, 

Nor will their Fears admit one moments flay : 

Trembling through Terror left he come too late \ 

They huddle his Difpatch, while at the Gate !• 

The Emperor’s Chariots to conduct him wait. i 

Lucina. Thefe fatal Honours my dire Dream foretold! 

Why fhould the Kind be ruin’d by the Bold ? 

He ne’r reflects upon my Deftiny 
So carelefs of himfelf, undoing mee. 

Ah Claudia l in my Vifions fo unskill’d 
Hee’l to the Army go and there be kill’d. 

Forgetful of my Love; Hee’l not afford 
The eafie Favour of a parting Word; 

Of all my Wifhes hee’s alone the Scope 
And hee’s the only End of all my Hope, 

My fill of Joy, and what is yet above 

Joys, Hopes, and Wifhes — He is all my Love : 

Myfterious Honour tell me what thou art! 

That takes up difF rent Forms in every Heart, 

And doft to diverfe Ends and Interefts move. 

Conqueft is his — my Honour is my Love. 

Both thefe do Paths fo oppofitely chufe 
By following one you muft the other lofe. 

So two ftrait Lines from the fame Point begun ' 

Can never meet, tho’ without end they run 

Alas, I rave! 

Lycias. Look on thy Glory, Love, and fmile to fee 
Two faithful Hearts at ftrife for Victory! 

Who blazing in thy facred Fires contend 
While both their equal Flames to Heav’n afcend. 

The God that dwells in Eyes light on my Tongue 

( 194 ) 


< ====• ===== == <£>-- - 8 * 

Left in my Meffage I his Paffion wrong; 

You’l better guefs the Anguifli of his Heart, 

From what you Feel, than what I can impart; 

But Madam, know the Moment I was come, 

His watchful Eye perceiv’d me in the Room; 

When with a quick precipitated hafte \ 

From C<efars Bofom where he flood embrac’d [ 

Piercing the bufie Crowd to me he paft ) 

Tears in his Eyes; his Orders in his Hand, 

He fcarce had Breath to give this fhort Command : 

With thy beft fpeed to my Lucina fly, 

If I muft part unfeen by her I dy, 

Decrees inevitable from above, 

And Fate which takes too little Care of Love, 

Force me away: Tell her ’tis my Requeft, 

By thofe kind Fires fhe kindled in my Breaft; 

Our future Hopes and all that we hold dear, 

She inftantly wou’d come and fee me here. 

That parting Griefs to her I may reveal 
And on her Lips propitious Omens feal. 

Affairs that prefs in this fhort fpace of time 
Afford no other place without a Crime; 

And that thou maift not fail of wifht-for Ends 
In a fuccefs whereon my Life depends, 

Give her this Ring. [Looks on the Ring. 

Lucin. How ftrange foever thefe Commands appear 
Love awes my Reafon, and controuls my Fear. 

But how couldft thou employ thy lavifh Tongue 
So idly to be telling this fo long! 

When ev’ry moment thou haft fpent in vain, 

Was half the Life that did to me remain. 

Flatter me, Hope, and on my Wifhes fmile, 

And make me happy yet a little while. 

If through my Fears I can fuch Sorrow fhow 
As to convince I perifh if he go: 

Pity perhaps his Gen’rous Heart may move 
To facrifice his Glory to his Love. 

I’l not defpair! 

Who knows how eloquent thefe Eyes may prove 

Begging in Floods of Tears and Flames of Love. [Exit Lucina. 

Lycias. Thanks to the Devil, my Friend, now all’s our own, \ 

How eafily this mighty work was done! !■ 

Well! firft or laft all Women muft be won / 

(19 5 ) 


, T — " ‘ — ^ '"" " s ’ 

“ It is their Fate and cannot be withftood 
“ The ’wife do ftill comply with Flefh and Blood; 

“ Or if through peevifh Honour Nature fail 

“ They do but lofe their Thanks — Art will prevail. ' [Exit. 


Enter JEcius perfuing Pontius, and Maximus following. 
Max. Temper your felf, Mcius. 

Pont. Hold, my Lord — I am a Souldier and a Roman ! 

Max. Pray Sir I 

Mcius. Thou art a lying Villain and a Tray tor. 

Give me my felf, or by the Gods, my Friend, 

You’l make me dang’rous : How dar’ft thou pluck 
The Souldiers to Sedition, and I living ? 

And fow Seeds of rank Rebellion even then 
When I am drawing out to Aftion ? 

Pont. Hear me ! 

Max. Are you a man ? 

Mcius. I am true, Maximus ! 

And if the Villain live, we are diihonour’d. 

Max. But hear him what he can fay! 

Mcius That’s the way 
To pardon him, I am fo eafie-Natur’d, 

That if he fpeak but humbly, I forgive him. 

Pont. I do befeech you, worthy General ! 

Mcius. H’ has found the way already. Give me room, 

And if he fcape me then, H’ has Mercy. 

Pont. I do not call you Worthy, that I fear you: 

I never car’d for Death; if you will kill me, 

Confider firft for what ! not what you can do : 

’Tis true I know you are my General; 

And by that great Prerogative may kill. 

Mcius. He argues with me! 

By Heav’n a made-up finilht Rebel. 

Max. Pray confider what certain grounds you have. 

Mcius. What Grounds ? 

Did I not take him preaching to the Souldiers, 

How lazily they liv’d; and what dilhonour 
It was to ferve a Prince fo full of Softnefs ! 

Thefe were his very Words, Sir. 

( 196 ) 


Max. Thefe ! Mcius , 

Tho’ they were raflily fpoken, which was an Error, 

A great one, Pontius! yet from him that hungers 
For War and brave Employment might be pardon’d! 

The Heart, and harbour’d Thoughts of ill makes Traytors, 

Not fpleeny Speeches 

Mcius. Why fliould you protect him ? 

Go to it fcarce fliews honeft 

Max. Taint me not! 

For that fhews worfe, Mcius ! All your Friendlhip 
And that pretended Love you lay upon me ; 

(Hold back my Honefty!) is like a Favour 
You do your Slave to day — to morrow hang him; 

Was I your Bofom-Friend for this ? 

Mcius. Forgive me ! 

So zealous is my Duty for my Prince, 

That oft it makes me to forget my felf; 

And tho’ I ftrive to be without my Paffion, 

I am no God, Sir; For you whofe infe&ion 
Has fpred it felf like Poyfon throu’ the Army, 

And caft a killing Fogg on fair Allegiance, 

Firft thank this Noble Gentleman; you had dy’d elfe: 

Next from your Place and Honour of a Souldier 
I here feclude you. 

Pont. May I fpeak yet ? 

Max. Hear him. 

Mcius. And while Mcius holds a Reputation, 

At leaft Command ! you bear no Arms for Rome , Sir. 

Pont. Againft her I lhall never: The condemn’d man 
Has yet the priviledge to fpeak, my Lord, 

Law were not equal elfe. 

Max. Pray hear, Mcius , 

For happily the fault he has committed 
Tho’ I believe it mighty; yet confider’d, 

If Mercy may be thought upon, will prove 
Rather a hafty Sin than heinous. 

Mcius. Speak. 

Pont. *Tis true, my Lord, you took me tir’d with peace, 

My Words as rough and ragged as my Fortune, 

Telling the Souldiers what a man we ferve 
Led from us by the Flourifhes of Fencers; 

I blam’d him too for foftnefs. 

Mcius. To the reft, Sir. 

( 197 ) 


Pont. ’Tis true I told ’em too 
We lay at home to fhew our Country 
We durft go naked, durft want Meat and Money; 

And when the Slaves drink Wine, we durft be thirfty. 

I told ’em too the Trees and Roots 
Were our beft Pay-mafters. 

Tis likely too I councell’d ’em to turn 
Their warlike Pikes to Plow-ftiares, their fure Targets 
And Swords hatcht with the Blood of many Nations 
To Spades and Pruning-Knives: their warlike 
Eagles, into Daws and Starlings. 

JScius. What think you 
Were thefe Words to be fpoken by a Captain, 

One that £hould give Example? 

Max. ’Twas too much. 

Pont. My Lord! I did not wooe ’em from the Empire, 
Nor bid ’em turn their daring Steel againft Cajar ; 

The Gods for ever hate me if that motion 
Were part of me; Give me but Employment 
And way to live, and where you find me vicious 
Bred up to mutiny, my Sword fhall tell you, 

And if you pleafe, that Place I held maintain it 
’Gainft the moft daring Foes of Rome ; I’m honeft ! 

A Lover of my Country, one that holds 
His Life no longer His than kept for Ca/ar: 

Weigh not — (I thus low on my Knee befeech you!) 

What my rude Tongue difcover’d ’twas my want, 

No other part of Pontius ; You have feen me 
And you, my Lord, do fomething for my Country, 

And both the wounds I gave and took 
Not like a backward Traytor. 

sEcius. All your Language 
Makes but againft you, Pontius! you are caft, 

And by my Honour and my Love to Ctefar 
By me fhall never be reftor’d in Camp; 

I will not have a Tongue, tho’ to himfelf 
Dare talk but near Sedition: As I govern 
All fhall obey, and when they want, their Duty 
And ready Service fhall redrefs their needs, 

Not prating what they wou’d be. 

Pont. Thus I leave you; 

Yet fhall my Pray’rs, altho’ my wretched Fortune 
Mull follow you no more, be ftill about you. 

( i9 8 ) 

! 33 * 

& — 

Gods give you where you fight the Victory! 

You cannot caft my wiflies. 

~>Mcius. Come, my Lord ! 

Now to the Field again. 

Max. Alas poor Pontius! 

The End of the Third Ad. 



Enter Chylax at one Door , Lycinius and Balbus at another. 

Lyc. T T Ow now! 

n Chy. Shee’s come. 

Balb. Then I’l to the Emperor ! [Ex. Balb. 

Chy. Is the Mufick plac’d well ? 

Lyc. Excellent. 

Chy. Lycinius , you and Proculus receive ’em 
In the great Chamber at her Entrance. 

Lycin. Let us alone. 

Chy. And do you here Lycinius. 

Pray let the Women ply her farther off. 

And with much more Difcretion — one word more ; 

Are all the Maskers ready ? 

Lycin. Take no care, man. . [Ex. 

Chyl. I am all over in a Sweat with Pimping; 

’Tis a laborious moyling Trade this. 

Enter Emperor, Balb. and Procul. 

Emp. Is flie come ? 

Chy. She is, Sir! but ’twere beft 
That you were laft feen to her. 

Emp. So I mean. 

Keep your Court empty Proculus. 

Proc. ’Tis done Sir. 

Emp. Be not too fudden to her. 

Chy. Good fweet Sir 
Retire and Man your felf: Let us alone, 

We are no Children this way: One thing Sir! 

( 199 ) 


« - 111 — 

’Tis neceffary, that her She-Companions 
Be cut off in the Lobby by the Women, 

They’l break the Bufinefs elfe. 

Emp. ’Tis true: They fliall. 

Chy. Remember your Place, Proculus. 

Proc. I warrant you [Ex. Emp. Balb. and Proculus. 

Enter Lucina, Claudia, Marcellina and Lycias. 

Chyl. She enters ! Who waits there ? The Emperor 
Calls for his Chariots, He will take the Air. 

Lucin. I am glad I came in fuch a happy hour 
When hee’l be abfent: This removes all Fears; 

But Lycias lead me to my Lord, 

Heav’n grant he be not gone. 

Lyc. ’Faith, Madam, that’s uncertain ! 

I’l run and fee. But if you mifs my Lord 
And find a better to fupply his Room, 

A Change fo happy will not difcontent you. — [Exit. 

Luc. What means that unwonted Infolence of this Slave ? 

Now I begin to fear again. Oh — Honour, 

If ever thou hadft Temple in weak Woman 
And Sacrifice of Modefty offer’d to Thee 
Hold me faff now and lie be fafe for ever. 

Chy. The fair Lucina\ Nay then I find 
Our Slander’ d-Court has not finn’d up fo high 
To fright all the good Angels from its Care, 

Since they have fent fo great a Blefling hither. 

Madam — I beg th’ Advantage of my Fortune, 

Who as I am the firft have met you here, 

May humbly hope to be made proud and happy 
With the honour of your firft Command and Service. 

Lucin. Sir — I am fo far from knowing how to merit 
Your Service, that your Complement’s too much, 

And I return it you with all my heart. 

You’l want it Sir, for thofe who know you better. 

Chy. Madam, I have the honour to be own’d 
By Maximus for his moft humble Servant, 

Which gives me Confidence. 

Marc. Now Claudia , for a Wager, 

What thing is this that cringes to my Lady ? 

Claud. Why fome grave States-man, by his looks a Courtier. 

Marc. Claudia , a Bawd: By all my hopes a Bawd! 

( 200 ) 


* — &— 

What ufe can reverend Gravity be of here, 

To any but a trufty Bawd? 

States-men are markt for Fops by it, befides 
Nothing but Sin and Lazinefs could make him 
So very fat, and look fo flefhy on’t. 

Lucia. But is my Lord not gone yet do you fay Sir ? 

Chy. He is not Madam, and muft take this kindly, 
Exceeding kindly of you, wondrous kindly, 

You come fo far to vifit him. I’le guide you. 

Lucia. Whither? 

Chy. Why to my Lord. 

Lucia. Is it impoffible 
To find him in this Place without a Guide, 

For I would willingly not trouble you? 

Chy. My only trouble, Madam, is my fear, 

I’m too unworthy of fo great an Honour. 

But here you’re in the publick Gallery, 

Where th’Emperor muft pafs, unlefs you’d fee him. 

Lucia. Blefs me Sir — No — pray lead me any whither, 
My Lord cannot be long before he finds me. 

Eater Lycinius, Proculus, and Balbus. Mufick. 

Lycia. She’s coming up the Stairs: now the Mufick 

And as that foftens — her love will grow warm, 

Till fhe melts down. Then C*efar lays his Stamp. 

Burn thefe Perfumes there. 

Proc. Peace, no noife without. 



I Njurious Charmer of my vanqui flit Hearty 
Canft thou feel Love, and yet no pity know ? 
Since of my f elf from thee I cannot part. 

Invent fome gentle Way to let me go. 

For what with Joy thou didflt obtain , 
And I with more did give ; 

In time will make thee falfe and vain, 
And me unfit to live. 


( 201 ) 




Frail Angel , that wou’dfl leave a Heart forlorn. 
With vain pretence falfhood therein might lye\ 

Seek not to caft wild fhadows o’ re your f corn , 

You cannot fooner change than I can dye. 

To tedious life Tie never fall, 

Thrown from thy dear lov’d Breafl\ 

He merits not to live at all, 

Who cares to live unblefl. 


Then let our flaming Hearts be joyn’d, 
While in that f acred fire\ 

Ere thou prove falfe, or I unkind, 

Together both expire. 

Enter Chyl. Lucina, Claudia, Marcellina. 

Lucin. Where is this Wretch, this Villain Lycias ? 

Pray Heav’n my Lord be here; for now I fear it. 

I am certainly betray’d. This curfed Ring 
Is either counterfeit or ftoln. 

Claud. Your fear 
Does but difarm your Refolution, 

Which may defend you in the worft Extreams < 

Or if that fail — Are there not Gods and Angels ? 

Lucin . None in this Place I fear but evil ones. 

Heav’n pity me. 

Chy. But tell me, deareft Madam, 

How do you like the Song? 

Lucin. Sir, I am no Judge 
Of Mulick, and the words, I thank my Gods, 

I did not underftand. 

Chy. The Emperor 

Has the beft Talent at expounding ’em; 

You’l ne’r forget a Leffon of his Teaching. 

Lucin. Are you the worthy Friend of Maximus 
Would lead me to him ? He fhall thank you Sir, 

As you delire. 

Chy. Madam, he fhall not need, 

I have a Mafter will reward my Service, 

( 202 ) 

* 2 ! 




When you have made him happy with your Love, 

For which he hourly languifhes Be kind [fVkifpers. 

Lucin. The Gods fhall kill me firft. 

Chy. Think better on’t. 

’Tis fweeter dying in th’Emperor’s Arms. 

Enter Phorba and Ardellia. 

But here are Ladies come to fee you, Madam, 

They’l entertain you better. I but tire you; 

Therefore I’le leave you for a while, and bring 

Your lov’d Lord to you [Exit. 

Lucin. Then I’le thank you. 

I am betray’d for certain. 

Phorb. You are a welcome Woman. 

Ard. Blefs me Heaven ! 

How did you find your way to Court? 

Lucin. I know not; would I had never trod it. 

Phorb. Prithee tell me. [Call Emperor behind. 

Good pretty Lady, and dear fweet Heart, love us, 

For we love thee extreamly. Is not this Place 
A Paradife to live in ? 

Lucin. Yes to you, 

Who know no Paradife but guilty Pleafure. 

Ard. Heard you the Mufick yet ? 

Lucin. ’Twas none to me. 

Phor. You muft not be thus froward. Well, this Gown 
Is one o’th’ prettieft, by my troth Ardelia , 

I ever faw yet; ’twas not to frown in, Madam. 

You put this Gown on when you came. 

Ard. How dee ye? 

Alas, poor Wretch, how cold it is! 

Lucin. Content you. 

I am as well as may be, and as temperate, 

So you will let me be fo Where’s my Lord? 

For that’s the bufinefs I come for hither. 

Phor. We’I lead you to him: he’s i’th’ Gallery. 

Ard. We’I Ihew you all the Court too. 

Lucin. Shew me him, & you have fhew’d me all I come to look on. 
Phor. Come on, we’l be your Guides; and as you go, 

We have fome pretty Tales to tell you, Madam, 

Shall make you merry too. You come not hither 
To be fad, Lucina. 

Lucin. Would I might not- 

( 203 ) 



Enter Chylax and Balbus in hajie. 

Chyl. Now fee all ready, Balbus : run. 

Balb. I fly Boy [Exit. 

Chy. The Women by this time are warning of her, 

If fhe holds out them — the Emperor 

Takes her to task he has her Hark, I hear ’em. 

Enter Emperor drawing in Lucina. Ring. 

Emp. Would you have run away fo flily, Madam ? 

Lucin. I befeech you Sir, 

Confider what I am, and whofe. 

Emp. I do fo. 

For what you are, I am fill’d with fuch Amaze, 

So far tranfported with Defire and Love, 

My flippery Soul flows to you while I fpeak, 

And whofe you were, I care not, for now you are mine, 

Who love you, and will doat on you more 
Than you do on your Vertue. 

Lucin. Sacred Cajar. 

Emp. You fhall not kneel to me; rife. 

Lucin. Look upon me, 

And if you be fo cruel to abufe me, 

Think how the Gods will take it. Does this Face 
Afflift your Soul? Tie hide it from you ever; 

Nay more, I will become fo leprous, 

That you fliall curfe me from you. My dear Lord 
Has ever ferv’d you truly — fought your Battels, 

As if he daily long’d to die for C<ejar\ 

Was never Traitor Sir, nor never tainted, 

In all the Addons of his Life. 

Emp. How high does this fantaftick Vertue fwell ? 

She thinks it Infamy to pleafe too well. [Afide. 

I know it — — • [To her. 

Lucin His Merits and his Fame have grown together 
Together flourilh’d like two fpreading Cedars, 

Over the Roman Diadem. O let not, 

(As you have a Heart that’s humane in you) 

The having of an honeft Wife decline him; 

Let not my Vertue be a Wedge to break him, 

Much lefs my Shame his undeferv’d Difhonour. 

I do not think you are fo bad a man; 

( 2°4 ) 


• T— ==C g=== = > 

I know Report belyes you; you are Cafar, 

Which is the Father of the Empires Glory: 

You are too near the Nature of the Gods, 

To wrong the weakeft of all Creatures, Woman. 

Emp. I dare not do it here. Rife, fair Lucina. \Afide. 

When you believe me worthy, make me happy. 

Chylax ! wait on her to her Lord within. 

Wipe your fair Eyes \Exeunt. 

Ah Love! ah curfed Boy! 

Where art thou that torments me thus unfeen, 

And rageft with thy Fires within my Breaft, 

W r ith idle purpofe to inflame her Heart, 

Which is as inaccefifible and cold, 

As the proud tops of thofe afpiring Hills, 

Whofe Heads are wrapt in everlafting Snow, 

Tho’ the hot Sun roll o’re ’em every day? 

And as his Beams, which only fhine above, 

Scorch and confume in Regions round below, 

Soft Love which throws fuch brightnefs thro’ her eyes, 

Leaves her Heart cold, and burns me at her feet; 

My Tyrant, but her flattering Slave thou art, 

A Glory round her lovely Face, a Fire within my Heart. 

Who waits without ? Lycinius ? 

Enter Lycinius. 

Lycin. My Lord. 

Emp. Where are the Mafquers that fliould dance to night ? 

Lycin. In the old Hall, Sir, going now to pradlife. 

Emp. About it ftrait. ’Twill ferve to draw away 
Thofe liftning Fools, who trace it in the Gallery; 

And if by chance odd noifes fhould be heard, 

As Womens Shrieks, or fo, fay, ’tis a Play 
Is pra&ifing within. 

Lycin. The Rape of Lucrece , 

Dr fome fuch merry Prank It flhall be done Sir. \Ex. 

Emp. ’Tis nobler like a Lion to invade, 

Where Appetite direfts, and feize my Prey, 

Than to wait tamely like a begging Dog, 
rill dull Confent throws out the Scraps of Love. 

[ fcorn thofe Gods who feek to crofs my Wiflies, 

\nd will in fpite of ’em be happy: Force 
Df all the Powers is the moft generous; 

?or what that gives, it freely does bellow, 

( 205 ) 


« sa 

Without the after Bribe of Gratitude. 

Fie plunge into a Sea of my Defires, 

And quench my Fever, tho’ I drown my Fame, 

And tear up Pleafure by the Roots : No matter 
Tho’ it never grow again; what (hall enfue, 

Let Gods and Fate look to it; ’tis their Bufinefs. [Exit. 


Opens and dij covers $ or 6 Dancing-mafiers praftifing. 

1 Dan. That is the damn’ft fhuffling Step, Pox on’t. 

2 Dan. I fhall never hit it. 

Thou haft naturally 

All the neat Motions of a merry Tailor, 

Ten thoufand Riggles with thy Toes inward, 

Cut clear and ftrong: let thy Limbs play about thee; 

Keep time, and hold thy Back upright and firm : 

It may prefer thee to a waiting Woman. 

1 Dan. Or to her Lady, which is worfe. 

Enter Lycinius. [Ten dance. 

Lycin. Blefs me, the loud Shrieks and horrid Outcries 
Of the poor Lady 1 Ravifhing d’ye call it? 

She roars as if flhe were upon the Rack: 

’Tis ftrange there lhould be fuch a difference 
Betwixt half-raviftiing, which moft Women love, 

And thorough force, which takes away all Blame, 

And fhould be therefore welcome to the vertuous. 

Thefe tumbling Rogues, I fear, have overheard ’em; 

But their Ears with their Brains are in their Heels. 

Good morrow Gentlemen: 

What, is all perfect? I have taken care 
Tour Habits Ihall be rich and glorious. 

3 Dan. That will fet off. Pray fit down and fee 
How the laft Entry I have made will pleafe you. 

Second Dance. 

Lycin. ’Tis very fine indeed. 

2 Dan. I hope fo Sir 

( 20 6 ) 

[Ex. Dancers. 


c £g= > 

Chyl. Proculus and Lycias. 

Proc. ’Tis done Lycinius. 

Lycin. How? 

Proc. I blufh to tell it. 

If there be any Juftice, we are Villains, 

And muft be fo rewarded. 

Lycias. Since ’tis done, 

I take it is not time now to repent it, 

Let’s make the beft of our Trade. 

Chy. Now Vengeance take it: 

Why fhould not he have fettl’d on a Beauty, 

Whofe Modefty ftuck in a piece of Tiffue? 

Or one a Ring might rule ? or fuch a one 
That had a Husband itching to be honourable, 

And ground to get it? If he muft have Women, 

And no allay without ’em, why not thofe 
That know the Myftery, and are beft able 
To play a Game with judgment, fuch as fhe is ? 

Grant they be won with long liege, endlefs travel, 

And brought to opportunities with millions, 

Yet when they come to Motion, their cold Vertue 
Keeps ’em like Beds of Snow. 

Lycin. A good Whore 
Had fav’d all this, and happily as wholfom, 

And the thing once done as well thought of too. 

But this fame Chaftity forfooth. 

Chy. A Pox on’t. 

Why fhould not Women be as free as we are ? 

They are, but will not own it, and far freer, 

And the more bold you bear your felf, more welcom, 

And there is nothing you dare fay but Truth, 

But they dare hear. 

Proc. No doubt of it away, 

Let them who can repent, go home and pray. [Exeunt. 

Scene opens , dif covers th ’ Emperor's Chamber. Lucina newly unbound by 
tk' Emperor. 

Emp. Your only Vertue now is Patience, 

Be wife and fave your Honour; if you talk 

Lucin. As long as there is Life in this Body, 

And Breath to give me words, I’le cry for Juftice. 

Emp. Juftice will never hear you; I am Juftice. 

( 207 ) 


Lucin . Wilt thou not kill me Monfter, Ravifher? 

Thou bitter Bane o’th’ Empire, look upon me, 

And if thy guilty eyes dare fee the Ruines 
Thy wild Luft hath laid level with Difhonour, 

The facrilegious razing of that Temple, 

The Tempter to thy black fins would have blufht at, 

Behold, and curfe thy felf. The Gods will find thee, 

That’s all my Refuge now, for they are righteous; 

Vengeance and Horror circle thee. The Empire, 

In which thou liv’ft a ftrong continu’d Surfeit, 

Like Poyfon will difgorge thee; good men raze thee 
From ever being read agen; 

Chaff Wives and fearful Maids make Vows againft thee; 

Thy worft Slaves, when they hear of this, fhall hate thee, 

And thofe thou haft corrupted, firft fall from thee, 

And if thou let’ft me live, the Souldier 

Tired with thy Tyrannies break thro’ Obedience, 

And fhake his ftrong Steel at thee. 

Emp. This prevails not, 

Nor any Agony you utter Madam : 

If I have done a fin, curfe her that drew me; 

Curfe the firft Caufe, the Witchcraft that abus’d me ; 

Curfe your fair Eyes, and curfe that heav’nly Beauty, 

And curfe your being good too. 

Lucin. Glorious Thief! 

What reftitution canft thou make to fave me ? 

Emp. I’le ever love and ever honour you. 

Lucin. Thou canft not; 

For that which was my Honour, thou haft murder’d; 

And can there be a Love in Violence ? 

Emp. You fhall be only mine. 

Lucin. Yet I like better 
Thy Villainy than Flattery; that’s thy own, 

The other bafely counterfeit. Fly from me, 

Or for thy fafeties fake and wifdom kill me; 

For I am worfe than thou art: Thou maift pray, 

And fo recover Grace 1 am loft for ever, 

And if thou let’ft me live, thou’rt loft thy felf too. 

Emp. I fear no lofs but Love 1 ftand above it. 

Lucin. Gods! what a wretched thing has this man made me? 
For I am now no Wife for Maximus \ 

No Company for Women that are vertuous; 

No Family I now can claim or Countrey, 

( 208 ) 


Nor Name but C ajar's Whore: Oh facred C ajar l 
(For that Should be your Title) was your Empire, 

Your Rods and Axes that are Types of Juftice, 

And from the Gods themfelves to ravifli Women ? 

The Curfes that I owe to Enemies, ev’n thofe the Sabins fent, 
When Romulus (as thou haft me) ravifht their noble Maids, 
Made more and heavier, light on thee. 

Emp. This helps not. 

Lucin. The fins of Tarquin be remember’d in thee, 

And where there has a chaft Wife been abus’d, 

Let it be thine, the Shame thine, thine the Slaughter, 

And laft for ever thine the fear’d Example. 

Where lhall poor Vertue live now I am fallen? 

What can your Honours now and Empire make me, 

But a more glorious Whore ? 

Emp. A better Woman. 

If you be blind and fcorn it, who can help it? 

Come leave thefe Lamentations; you do nothing 

But make a noife 1 am the fame man ftill 

Were it to do agen, Therefore be wifer, by all 
This holy Light I would attempt it. 

You are fo excellent, and made to ravifli, 

There were no pleafure in you elfe. 

Lucin. Oh Villain ! 

Emp. So bred for man’s Amazement, that my Reafon 
And every help to do me right has left me: 

The God of Love himfelf had been before me, 

Had he but Eyes to fee you; tell me juffcly 

How fhould I choofe but err then if you will 

Be mine and only mine (for you are fo precious) 

I envy any other fhould enjoy you, 

Almoft look on you, and your daring Husband 
Shall know he has kept an OIF ring from th’Emperor, 

Too holy for the Altars Be the greateft; 

More than my felf I’le make you; if you will not, 

Sit down with this and filence: for which wifdom, 

You lhall have ufe of me; if you divulge it, 

Know I am far above the faults I do, 

And thofe I do, I am able to forgive; 

And where your credit in the telling of it 
May be ■with glofs enough fufpefted, mine 
Is as my own Command lhall make it. Princes 
Tho’ they be fometimes fubjeft to loofe Whifpers, 
p ( 209 ) 

3 »« 


* =—=—==—= '£ &= 

Yet wear they two edg’d Swords for open Cenfures: 

Your Husband cannot help you, nor the Souldiers ; 

Your Husband is my Creature, they my Weapons, 

And only where I bid ’em ftrike 1 feed ’em, 

Nor can the Gods be angry at this Action, 

Who as they made me greateft, meant me happieft, 

Which I had never been without this pleafure. 

Conlider, and farewel. You’l find your Women 
Waiting without. [Ex. Emperor. 

Lucin . Definition find thee. 

Now which way fliall I go — my honeft Houfe 
Will fliake to fhelter me — my Husband fly me, 

My Family, 

Becaufe they’re honeft, and defire to be fo. 

Is this the end of Goodnefs ? This the price 
Of all my early pray’rs to protet me? 

Why then I fee there is no God — but Power, 

Nor Vertue now alive that cares for us, 

But what is either lame or fenfual; 

How had I been thus wretched elfe ? 

Enter Maximus and iEcius. 

Mcius. Let Tim 

Command the Company that Pontius loft. 

Max. How now fweet Heart 1 
What make you here and thus ? 

Mcius. Lucina weeping. 

This is fome ftrange offence. 

Max. Look up and tell me. 

Why art thou thus? my Ring! oh Friend I have found it! 
You are at Court then. 

Lucin. This and that vile Wretch Lycias brought me hither. 
Max. Rife and go home. I have my Fears, Mcius. 

Oh my beft Friend! I am ruin’d. Go Lucina, 

Already in thy tears I’ve read thy Wrongs, 

Already found a Cafar? Go thou Lilly, 

Thou fweetly drooping Flower; be gone, I fay, 

And if thou dar’ft — outlive this Wrong. 

Lucin. I dare not. 

Mcius. Is that the Ring you loft ? 

Max. That, that Mcius, 

That curfed Ring, my felf and all my Fortunes have undone. 

( 210 ) 


' & '" == 

Thus pleas’d th’ Emperor, my noble Matter, 

For all my Services and Dangers for him, 

To make me my own Pandar! was this Juftice? 

Oh my Mcius\ have I liv’d to bear this? 

Lucin. Farewel for ever Sir. 

Max. That’s a fad faying; 

But fuoh a one becomes you well, Lucina. 

And yet methinks we fhould not part fo flighdy; 

Our Loves have been of longer growth, more rooted 
Than the lharp blaft of one Farewel can fcatter. 

Kifs me — I find no Ccejar here. Thefe Lips 
Tafte not of Ravifher, in my opinion. 

Was it not fo? 

Lucin. O yes. 

Max. I dare believe you. 

I know him and thy truth too well to doubt it. 

Oh my moft dear Lucina ! oh my Comfort! 

Thou Blefling of my Youth! Life of my Life! 

JEcius. I have feen enough to ftagger my Obedience. 
Hold me, ye equal Gods! this is too finful. 

Max. Why wert thou chofen out to make a Whore of, 
Thou only among millions of thy Sex? 

Unfeignedly vertuous! fall, fall chryftal Fountains, 

And ever feed your Streams, your riling Sorrows, 

Till you have wept your Miftrefs into marble. 

Now go for ever from me. 

Lucin. A long farewel Sir! 

And as I have been faithful, Gods, think on me. 

Mcius. Madam farewel, fince you refolve to die. 
Which well confider’d, 

If you can ceafe a while from thefe ftrange thoughts, 

I wifh were rather alter’d. 

Lucin. No. 

AScius. Miftake not. 

I would not ftain your Vertue for the Empire, 

Nor any way decline you to Dilhonour: 

It is not my profeffion, but a Villain’s; 

I find and feel your lofs as deep as you do, 

And ftill am the fame AEcius, ftill as honeft; 

The fame Life I have ftill for Maximus , 

The fame Sword wear for you where Juftice bids me, 
And ’tis no dull one. Therefore mifconceive me not. 
Only I’d have you live a little longer. 

( 2ii ) 


* 11 a o ?" — 

Lucin. Alas Sir ! why ? 

Am I not wretched enough already? 

Mcius. To draw from that wild man a fweet repentance, 
And goodnefs in his days to come. 

Max. They are fo. 

And will be ever coming, my Mcius . 

Mcius. For who knows but the fight of you, prefenting 
His fwoln fins at the full, and your wrong’d Vertue, 

May like a fearful Vifion fright his Follies, 

And once more bend him right again; which Bleffing, 

If your dark Wrongs would give you leave to read, 

Is more than Death, and the Reward more glorious; 

Death only eafes you. This the whole Empire 
Befides, compelPd and forc’d by violence, 

To what was done. The deed was none of yours; 

For fhould th’ eternal Gods defire to perifh, 

Becaufe we daily violate their Truth, 

Which is the Chaftity of Heav’n ? No Madam — 

Lucin. The Tongues of Angels cannot alter me. 

For could the World again reftore my Honour, 

As fair and abfolute as ere I bred it, 

That World I fhould not truft; again, the Emperor 
Can by my Life get nothing but my Story, 

Which whilft I breathe muft be his Infamy: 

And where you counfel me to live, that Cajar 

May fee his Errors and repent I’le tell you, 

His Penitence is but increafe of Pleafure; 

His Pray’rs are never faid but to deceive us; 

And when he weeps, (as you think, for his Vices) 

’Tis but as killing Drops from baleful Yew-trees, 

That rot his harmlefs Neighbours, if he can grieve 
As one that yet defires his free Converfion, 

I’le leave him Robes to mourn in — my fad Afhes. 

Mcius. The Farewel then of happy Souls be with thee, 
And to thy Memory be ever fung 
The Praifes of a juft and conftant Woman: 

This fad day whilft I live, a Souldier’s Tears 
I’le offer on thy Monument. 

Max. All that is chaft upon thy Tomb fhall flourifh; 

All living Epitaphs be thine; Time’s Story, 

And what is left behind to piece our Lives, 

Shall be no more abus’d with Tales and Trifles. 

Mcius. But full of thee ftand to Eternity, 



•C SB , g =====^g==== 1 , " BBS 1 , 1 = — . ■ — ' -3> * 

Once more farewel — Go find Elizium, 

There where deferving Souls are crown’d with Bleffings. 

Max. There where no vicious Tyrants come: Truth, Honour, 

Are keepers of that blefied Place; go thither. {Ex. Lucina. 

. Ecius . Gods give thee Juftice. 

His Thoughts begin to work, I fear him yet; 

He ever was a worthy Roman , but 
I know not what to think on’t. He has fuffer’d 
Beyond a man, if he ftand this. 

Max. Mcius, 

Am I alive, or has a dead Sleep feiz’d me? 

It was my Wife th’Emperor abus’d thus, 

And I mull fay — I am glad I had her for him. 

Mull I not Mcius ? 

Mcius. I am ftricken' 

With fuch a ftiff Amazement, that no Anfwer 
Can readily come from me, nor no Comfort. 

Will you go home, or go to my Houfe? 

Max. Neither. 

I have no home, and you are mad Mcius, 

To keep me Company — I am a Fellow 
My own Sword would forfake, not tyed to me. 

By Heav’n I dare do nothing. 

Mcius. You do better. 

Max. I am made a branded Slave, Mcius , 

Yet I mull blefs the Maker. 

Death on my Soul! fhall I endure this tamely? 

Mull Maximus be mention’d for his Wrongs ? 

I am a Child too; what do I do railing? 

I cannot mend my felf. ’Twas Cajar did it. 

And what am I to him ? 

Mcius. ’Tis well remember’d; 

However you are tainted, be not Traitor. 

Max. O that thou wert not living, and my Friend! 

Mcius. I’le bear a wary Eye upon your Actions: 

I fear you, Maximus , nor can I blame you, 

If you break out; for by the Gods, your Wrong 
Deferves a general Ruine. Do you love me ? 

Max. That’s all I have to live on. 

Mcius . Then go with me. 

You fhall not to your own Houfe. 

Max. Nor to any. 

My Griefs are greater far than Walls can compafs; 

( 213 ) 


«— S3 

And yet I wonder how it happens with me. 

I am not dang’rous, and in my Confcience, 

Should I now fee the Emperor i’th’ heat on’t, 

I lhould fcarce blame him for’t: an awe runs thro’ me, 

I feel it fenfibly that binds me to it, 

’Tis at my Heart now, there it fits and rules, 

And methinks ’tis a pleafure to obey it. 

Mcius. This is a Mask to cozen me. I know you, 

And how far you dare do. No Roman farther, 

Nor with more fearlefs valour, and I’le watch you. 

Max. Is a Wifes lofs — 

More than the fading of a few frefh Colours ? 

Mcius. No more, Maximus , 

To one that truly lives. 

Max. Why then I care not; I can live well enough, Mcius: 

For look you, Friend, for Vertue and thofe Trifles, 

They may be bought they fay. 

Mcius. He’s crazed a little. 

His grief has made him talk things from his nature. 

Will you go any ways ? 

Max. I’le tell thee Friend, 

If my Wife for all this lhould be a Whore now, 

’Twould vex me, 

For I am not angry yet. The Emperor 
Is young and handfom, and the Woman, Flefh, 

And may not thefe two couple without Scratching ? 

Mcius. Alas, my Maximus ! 

Max. Alas not me, I am not wretched, for there’s no man miferable 
But he that makes himfelf fo. 

Mcius. Will you walk yet ? 

Max. Come, come; ihe dares not die, Friend, that’s the truth on’t. 
She knows the enticing Sweets and Delicacies 
Of a young Princes Pleafure, and I thank her, 

She has made way for Maximum to rife. 

Wilt not become me bravely ? 

Mcius. Deareft Friend, 

Thefe wild words fhew your violated mind, 

Urg’d with the laft extremity of grief; 

Which fince I cannot like a Man redrefs, 

With tears I muft lament it like a Child ; 

For when ’tis Cajar does the injury, 

Sorrow is all the Remedy I know. 

Max. ’Tis then a certain truth that I am wrong’d, 

( 214 ) 



Wrong’d in that barb’rous manner I imagin’d: 
Alas, I was in hopes I had been mad, 

And that thefe Horrors which invade my Heart, 
Were but diftrafted melancholy Whimfeys: 

But they are real truths (it feems) and I 
The laft of men, and vileft of all Beings. 

Bear me cold Earth, who am too weak to move 
Beneath my load of Shame and Mifery! 

Wrong’d by my lawful Prince, robb’d of my Love. 
Branded with qverlafting infamy. 

Take pity Fate, and give me leave to die : 

Gods ! would you be ador’d for being good, 

Or only fear’d for proving mifchievous ? 

How would you have your Mercy underftood ? 
Who could create a Wretch like Maximus , 

Ordain’d tho’ guiltlefs to be infamous ? 

Supream firft Caufes 1 you, whence all things flow, 
Whofe infinitenefs does each little fill, 

You, who decree each feeming Chance below, 

(So great in Power) were you as good in Will, 

How could you ever have produc’d fuch ill ? 

Had your eternal minds been bent to good ? 

Could humane happinefs have prov’d fo lame, 
Rapine, Revenge, Injuftice, thirft of Blood, 

Grief, Anguifh, Horror, Want, Defpair and Shame. 
Had never found a Being nor a Name. 

’Tis therefore lefs impiety to fay, 

Evil with you has Coeternity, 

Than blindly taking it the other way, 

That merciful and of election free, 

You did create the mifchiefs you forefee. 

Wretch that I am, on Heav’n to exclame, 

When this poor tributary Worm below, 

More than my felf in nothing but in name, 

Who durft invade me with this fatal Blow, 

I dare not crufh in the revenge I owe. 

Not all his Power fhall the -wild Monfter fave; 

Him and my fliame I’le tread into one Grave. 
JEcius. Does he but feem fo? 

Or is he mad indeed ? Now to reprove him, 

Were council loft; but fomething muft be done 
With fpeed and care, which may prevent that Fate 
Which threatens this unhappy Emperor. 

( 2x5 ) 


• * aS 

Max. O Gods! my Heart, would it would fairly break; 
Methinks I am fomewhat wilder than I was, 

And yet I thank the Gods I know my Duty. 

Enter Claudia. 

Claud. Forgive me my fad Tidings Sir She’s dead, 

Max. Why fo it fhould be [He rifes] How? 

Claud. When firft fhe enter’d 
Into the Houfe, after a world of weeping, 

And blufhing like the Sunfet 

Dare I, faid fhe, defile my Husband’s Houfe, 

Wherein his fpotlefs Family has flourifht ? 

At this fhe fell Choakt with a thoufand fighs! 

And now the pleas’d expiring Saint, 

Her dying Looks, where new born Beauty fhines. 

Oppreft with Blufhes, modeftly declines, 

While Death approacht with a Majeftick Grace, 

Proud to look lovely once in fuch a Face : 

Her Arms fpread to receive her welcome Gueft, 

With a glad figh fhe drew into her Bread: : 

Her Eyes then Ianguilhing tow’rds Heaven fhe caff. 

To thank the Powers that Death was come at laft. 

And at the approach of the cold filent God; 

Ten thoufand hidden Glories rufli’d abroad. 

Max. No more of this Begone. Now my Atcius, 

If thou wilt do me pleafure, weep a little; 

I am fo parcht I cannot Your Example 

Has taught my tears to flow Now lead away Friend, 

And as we walk together Let us pray 

I may not fall from truth. 

Mcius. That’s nobly fpoken. 

Max. Was I not wild, Mcius ? 

Mcius. You were troubled. 

Max. I felt no forrows then, but now my Grief, 

Like feftering Wounds grown cold, begins to fmart, 

Th? raging Anguifh gnaws and tears my Heart. 

Lead on and weep, but do not name the Woman. 

The End of the fourth Aft. 

! 3 * 


( 2i 6 ) 


=====&=== - 



Met us Solus. A Letter. 

Mciui. T OOK down, ye equal Gods, and guide my heart, 
I j Or it will throw upon my hands an aft 
Which after Ages fhall record with horror: 

As well may I kill my offended Friend, 

As think to punilh my offending Prince. 

The Laws of Friendfhip we our felves create. 

And ’tis but Ample Villany to break ’em; 

But Faith to Princes broke, is Sacriledge, 

An injury to the Gods, And that loft Wretch 
Whofe Breaft is poyfon’d with fo vile a Purpofe, 

Tears Thunder down from Heav’n on his own head, 

And leaves a Curfe to his Pofterity: 

Judge him your felves, ye mighty Gods, who know 
Why you permit fometimes that Honour bleed, 

That Faith be broke, and Innocence oppreft. 

My Duty’s my Religion, and howe’re 

The great Account may rife ’twixt him and you, 

Through all his Crimes I fee your Image on him, 

And muft proteft it no way then but this, 

To draw far off the injur’d Maxima, 

And keep him there faft Prifoner to my Friendfhip ; 
Revenge fhall thus be flatter’d or deftroy’d, 

And my bad Mafter whom I blufh to ferve, 

Shall by my means at leaft be fafe. This Letter 
Informs him I am gone to Mgypt, there 
I fhall live fecure and innocent; 

His fins fhall ne’re o’retake me, nor his fears, 

Enter Proculus. 

Here comes one for my Purpofe; Proculus, 

Well met, I have a Courtefie to ask of you. 

Proc. Of me, my Lord ! Is there a Houfe on fire ? 

Or is there fome knotty Point now in debate 
Betwixt your Lordfhip and the Scavengers ? 

For you have fuch a popular, and publick Spirit, 

( 217 ) 


•S ' = 1 == — ^=gg 1 1 

As in dull times of Peace will not difdain 
The meaneft opportunity to ferve your Country. 

Mcius . You witty Fools are apt to get your Heads broke: 

This is no feafon for Buffooning, Sirrah ! 

Though heretofore I tamely have endur’d 
Before th’Emperour your ridiculous Mirth; 

Think not you have a Title to be fawcy; 

When Monkey’s grow mifchievous, they are whipt, 

Chain’d up and whipt. There has been mifchief done, 

And you (I hear) a wretched Inftrument: 

Look to’t, when e’re I draw this Sword to punifh, 

You and your grinning Crew will tremble, Slaves; 

Nor fhall the ruin’d world afford a Corner 
To fhelter you, nor that poor Prince’s Bofom 
You have invenom’d and polluted fo; 

As if the Gods were willing it fhould be 
A Dungeon for fuch Toads to crawl and croak in. 

Proc. All this in earneft to your humbled: Creature ? 

Nay, then my Lord, I muff no more pretend 
With my poor Talent to divert your Ears ; 

Since my well-meaning Mirth is grown offenfive. 

Tho’ Heav’n can tell, 

There’s not fo low an A£t of fervile Duty, 

I wou’d not with more Pride throw my felf on, 

For great Mcius ' s fake, than gain a Province, 

Or fhare with Valentinian in his Empire. 

Mcim. Thou art fo fawning and fo mean a Villain, 

That I difdain to hate, tho’ I defpife thee; 

When e’re thou art not fearful, thou art fawcy; 

Be fo again, my Pardon gives thee leave, 

And to deferve it, carry this my Letter 

To the Emperor: Tell him I am gone for Mgypt , 

And with me, Maximus ; ’twas fcarce fit we two 
Should take our leaves of him : Pray ufe your Intereft ; 

He may forgive us. ’Twill concern you much, 

For when we are gone, to be bafe vicious Villains, 

Will prove lefs dang’rous [Exit AScius. 

Proc. What the Devil pofleffes 
This rufty Back and Bread: without a Head-Piece ? 

Villains and Vicious! Maximus and Mgypt! 

This may be Treafon, or I’le make it fo: 

The Emperor’s apt enough to fears and jealoufies 
Since his late Rape. I mud: blow up the fire, 

( 218 ) 



•* — = = = 

And aggravate this doating Hero’s Notions, 

Till they fuch Terrors in the Prince have bred, 

May coft the Fool his worft part, that’s his Head. 


Enter Emperour , Lycinius, Chylax , and Balbus. 

Emp. Dead? 

Balb. ’Tis too certain. 

Emp. How? 

Lycin. Grief and Difgrace, 

As people fay. 

Emp. No more, I have too much on’t, 

Too much by you. You whetters of my Follies; 

Ye Angel formers of my fins ; but Devils, 

Where is your cunning now? you would work Wonders. 
There was no Chaftity above your practice; 

You’d undertake to make her love her Wrongs, 

And doat upon her Rape. Mark what I tell you, 

If file be dead! 

Chy. Alas Sir! 

Emp. Hang you, Rafcals ! 

Ye blafters of my Youth ; if £he be gone, 

’Twere better ye had been your Fathers Camels, 

Groan’d under weights of Wooll and Water. 

Am I not Cafar? 

Lycin. Mighty, and our Maker 

Emp. Than thus have given my Pleafures to deftruftion — 

Look file be living, Slaves 

Chy. We are no Gods, Sir, 

If file be dead, to make her live again. 

Emp. She cannot dye, file muft not dye: are thofe 
I plant my Love upon but common livers ? 

Their Hours told out to ’em? Can they be Aflies? 

Why do you flatter a belief in me, 

That I am all that is? The World my Creature; 

The Trees bring forth their Fruit, when I fay Summer; 

The Wind that knows no limits but its wildnefs, 

At my command moves not a Leaf; The Sea, 

With his proud mountain-Waters envying Heav’n, 

When I fay ftill, runs into chryftal Mirrors. 

( 219 ) 



* = = ===== === ==C & =» 

Can I do this and fhe dye ? Why ye Bubbles, 

That with my leaft breath break, no more remember’d, 

Ye Moths that fly about my Flames and perifh; 

Why do ye make me God, that can do nothing ? 

Is lhe not dead ? 

Chy. All Women are not dead with her. 

Emp. A common Whore ferves you, and far above you, 

The Pleafures of a Body lam’d with lewdnefs, 

A meer perpetual Motion makes you happy. 

Am I a man to traffick with Difeafes ? 

You think, becaufe ye have bred me up to Pleafures, 

And almoft run me over all the rare ones, 

Your Wives will ferve the turn; I care not for ’em, 

Your Wives are Fencers Whores, and fhall be Footmens, 

Tho’ fometimes my Fantaftick Luft or Scorn, 

Has made you Cuckolds for variety; 

I wou’d not have ye hope or dream, ye poor ones, 

Always fo great a Bleffing from me. Go, 

Get your own Infamy hereafter Rafcals; ye enjoy 
Each one an Heir, the Royal Seed of Cafar, 

And I may curfe ye for it. 

Thou Lycinius , 

Haft fuch a Meffelina , fuch a Lais , 

The Backs of Bulls cannot content, nor Stallions, 

The fweat of fifty men anight does nothing. 

Lycin. I hope Sir, you know better things of her. 

Emp. ’Tis Oracle, 

The City can bear witnefs, thine’s a Fool, Chylax , 

Yet lhe can tell her twenty, and all Lovers, 

All have lain with her too; and all as lhe is, 

Rotten and ready for an Hofpital. 

Yours is a holy Whore, friend Balbus. 

Balb. Well Sir. 

Emp. One that can pray away the Sins file fuffers, 

But not the Punifhment; lhe has had ten Baftards, 

Five of ’em now are Lidtors, yet lhe prays. 

She has been the Song of Rome and common Pafquil, 

Since I durft fee a Wench, lhe was Camp-Miftrefs, 

And mufter’d all the Cohorts, paid ’em too ; 

They have it yet to lhew, and yet lhe prays. 

She is now to enter old Men turn’d Children, 

That have forgot their Rudiments; and am I 

Left for thefe wither’d Vices ? And was there but one, 

( 220 ) 


•<t — = — i 1 g =£• 

But one of all the World that could content me, 

And fnatchtaway in (hewing? if your Wives 
Be not yet Witches, or your felves ? now be fo, 

And fave your Lives; raife me the deareft Beauty, 

As when I forc’d her full of Chaftity, 

Or by the Gods 

Lycin. Moll facred C<efar 

Emp. Slaves. 

Enter Proculus. 

Proc. Hail Cafar , Tidings of Concern and Danger, 

My Meffage does contain in furious manner, 

With Oaths and Threatnings ; ftern Mem 
Enjoyn’d me on the peril of my life, 

To give this Letter into Ctefars hands. 

Arm’d at all points, prepar’d to march he Hands, 

With crowds of mutinous Officers about him, 

Among thefe, full of Anguifh and Defpair, 

Like pale Tyfiphone along Hell-brinks, 

Plotting Revenge and Ruine Maximus 

With Ominous afpedl walks in filent horror, 

In threatning Murmurs and harfh broken fpeeches, 

They talk of Mgypt and their Provinces, 

Of Cohorts ready with their lives to ferve ’em, 

And then with bitter Curfes they nam’d you. 

Emp. Go tell thy fears to thy Companions, Slave ! 

For ’tis a Language Princes underftand not ; 

Be gone, and leave me to my felf. [Eat. all hut Emperor. 

The names of Mcius and of Maximus 

Run thro’ me like a Fever, fhake and burn me; 

But to my Slaves I mull: not fliew my poornefs. 

They know me vicious, Ihou’d they find me bale, 

How would the Villains fcorn me and infult ? 

Letter. He reads. 


Would fame God infpire me with another way to ferve you, 

I would not thus fly from you without leave ; but 
Maximus his wrongs have toucht too many, and Jhould 
His prefence here incourage 'em , dangers to you might follow. 

In ./Egypt he will be more forgot, and you more fafe by his 

Emp. A Plot, by Heav’n 1 a Plot laid for my Life, 

( 221 ) 


• T- 1 1 egg — 

This is too fubtle for my dull friend Mcius\ 

Heav’n give you Sir, a better fervant to guard you, 

A faithfuller you will never find than Mrius, 

Since he refents his Friends Wrongs, he’l revenge ’em 
I know the Souldiers love him more than Heav’n, 

Me they hate more than Peace; what this may breed 

If dull fecurity and confidence 

Let him grow up, a Fool may find and laugh at. 

Who waits there? Proculus. 

Enter Proculus. 

Well, haft thou obferv’d 

The growing pow’r and pride of this Mcius ? 

He writes to me with terms of Infolence, 

And jfhortly will rebel, if not prevented; 

But in my bafe lew’d Herd of vicious Slaves, 

There’s not a man that dares ftand up to ftrike 
At my Command, and kill this riling Traitor. 

Proc. The Gods forbid Cafar Ihould thus be ferv’d, 
The Earth will fwallow him, did you command it! 

But I have ftudy’d a fafe fure way, 

How he fhall dye and your will ne’re fufpedted. 

A Souldier waits without, whom he has wrong’d, 
Cafhier’d, difgrac’d, and turn’d to beg or ftarve. 

This fellow for revenge wou’d kill the Devil; 
Encouragement of Pardon and Reward, 

Which in your name I’le give him inftantly, 

Will make him fly more fwiftly on the Murther, 

Than longing Lovers to their firft appointment. 

Emp. Thou art the wifeft, watchful, wary Villain, 
And ftialt partake the fecrets of my foul, 

And ever reel my Favour and my Bounty. 

Tell the poor Souldier he fhall be a General, 

Mcius once dead. 

Proc. Ay, there y’have found the point Sir, 

If he can be fo brutifh to believe it. 

Emp. Oh never fear! urge it with Confidence. 
What will not flatter’d angry fools believe ? 

Minutes are precious, loofe not one. 

Proc. I fly Sir 

Emp. What an infedted Confcience do I live with, 
And what a Beaft I’m grown ? when Luft has gain’d 
An uncontroul’d Dominion in mans Heart, 

( 222 ) 


[ Exit Proculus. 


•c = ■ ■ = =====^Q£=== — = s>’ 

Then fears fucceed with horror and amazement, 

Which rack the wretch and tyrannize by turns. 

But hold 

Shall I grow then fo poor as to repent ? 

Tho’ Mcius, Mankind, and the Gods forfake me, 

Fie never alter and forfake my felf. 

Can I forget the lafl difcourfe he held ? 

As if he had intent to make me odious 
To my own face, and by a way of terror, 

What Vices I was grounded in, and almoft 
Proclaim’d the Souldiers hate againft me. Is not 
The facred Name and Dignity of Cajar 
(Were this Mcius more than man fufficient) 

To fhake off all his Honefty? He is dangerous, 

Tho’ he be good, and tho’ a Friend, a fear’d one, 

And fuch I mull not fleep by; as for Maximus, 

I’le find a time when Mcius is difpatcht. 

I do believe this Proculus, and I thank him ; 

’Twas time to look about; if I mull perifli, 

Yet fhall my fears go formoft, that’s determin’d. [Exit Emperour 


Enter Proculus and Pontius. 

Proc. Befides this, if you do it, you enjoy 
The noble name of Patrician, more than that too; 

The Friend of Cajar y’are ftil’d. There’s nothing 
Within the hopes of Rome, or prefent being, 

But you may fafely fay is yours. 

Pont. Pray ftay Sir. 

What has Mcius done to be deftroy’d ? 

At leaft I would have a Colour. 

Proc . You have more. 

Nay, all that can be given; he is a Traitor. 

One, any man would ftrike that were a Subjeft. 

Pont. Is he fo foul ? 

Proc. Yes, a moft fearful Traitor. 

Pont. A fearful Plague upon thee, for thou ly’ft; [Ajide. 

I ever thought the Souldiers would undo him 
With their too much AfFe&ion. 

( 223 ) 

Proc. You have it. 

They have brought him to Ambition. 

Pont. Then he is gone. 

Proc. The Emperour, out of a foolifh Pity, 

Would fave him yet. 

L; Pont. Is he fo mad ? 

Proc. He’s madder, 

Would go to th’Army to him. 

Pont. Would he fo ? 

Proc. Yes Pontius , but we confider. 

Pont. Wifely. 

Proc. How elfe man, that the State lies in it ? 

Pont. And your Lives ? 

Proc. And every mans. 

Pont. He did me [Aretus here. 

All the difgrace he could. 

Proc. And fcurvily. 

Pont. Out of a Mifchief meerly. Did you mark it? 

Proc. Yes, well enough. 

Now you have means to quit it; 

The Deed done, take his Place. 

Pont. Pray let me think on’t, 

’Tis ten to one I do it. 

Proc. Do, and be happy . . l Exit Proculus. 

Pont. This Emperor is made of nought but mifchief, 

Sure Murther was his Mother. None to lop 
But the main Link he had? Upon my Confcience, 

The man is truly honeft, and that kills him. 

For to live here, and ftudy to be true, 

Is all one as to be a Traitor. Why fhould he dye ? 

Have they not Slaves and Rafcals for their Offerings 
In full aboundance ; Bawds, more than Beafts for daughter ? 

Have they not finging Whores enough, and Knaves befides, 

And millions of fuch Martyrs to fink Charon , 

But the beft Sons of Rome muft fall too ? I will fhew him 
(Since he muft dye) a way to do it truly. 

And tho’ he bears me hard, yet fhall he know 

I’m born to make him blefs me for a Blow. [Exit. 

( 224 ) 


Enter Phidius, Aretus, and y£cius. 

Aret. The Treafon is too certain; fly my Lord. 

I heard that Villain Proculus inftrud 
The defperate Pontius to difpatch you here, 

Here in the Anti-Chamber. 

^ P hid. Curft Wretches, 

let you may efcape to the Camp, we’l hazard with you. 
Aret. Lofe not your Life fo bafely Sir; you are arm’d 

when the >’ fee y° ur Sword, and know why, 
Muft follow your Adventures. 

AEcius. Get ye from me. 

Is not the Doom of Cajar on this Body? 

Do I not bear my laft hour here now fent me? 

Am I not old AEcius ever dying ? 

You think this Tendernefs and Love you bring me; 
lis Treafon and the ftrength of Difobedience; 

And if ye tempt me further ye fhall feel it. 

I feek the Camp for fafety, when my Death, 

Ten times more glorious then my Life and lafting, 
nids me be happy. Let Fools fear to dye, 

Or he that weds a Woman for his Honour, 

Dreaming no other Life to come but Kiffes. 

ALcius is not now to learn to fuffer; 

If ye dare fliew a juft affedion, kill me 

ftay but thofe that muft ; why do ye weep ? 

Am I fo wretched as to deferve mens Pities ? 

Go, give your Tears to thofe that lofe their worths, 
Bewail their mifenes: For me, wear Garlands, 
rink Wine, and much. Sing P<eans to my Praife, 

I am to triumph, Friends, and more than Cafar, 
r or Csefar fears to dye, I love to dye. 

Phid. O my dear Lord! 

AZctus. No more, go, go I fay, 

Shew me not figns of forrow, I deferve none. 

Dare any man lament I fhould dye nobly ? 

When I am dead, fpeak honourably of me; 

I hat is, preferve my Memory from dying, 
lhere if you needs muft weep your ruin’d Mafter, 

A Tear or two will feem well; This I charge you, 

Q ( 225 ) 


(Becaufe ye fay ye yet love old Mcius.) 

See my poor Body burnt, and fome to fing 
About my Pile what I have done and fuffer’d. 

If Cajar kill not that too: At your Banquets, 

When I am gone, if any chance to number 
The times that have been fad and dangerous, 

Say how I fell, and ’tis fufficient. 

No more I fay; he that laments my end, 

By all the Gods, difhonours me; be gone, 

And fuddenly and wifely from my Dangers, 

My Death is catching elfe. 

Phid. We fear not dying. 

Mcius. Yet fear a wilful Death, the juft Gods hate it; 

I need no Company to that, that Children 
Dare do alone, and Slaves are proud to purchafe. 

Live till your honefties, as mine has done, 

Make this corrupted Age lick of your Virtues. 

Then dye a Sacrifice, and then you’l know 
The noble ufe of dying well and Romans. 

Aret. And muft we leave you Sir ? 

Mcius. We muft all dye, 

All leave our felves, it matters not where, when 
Nor how, fo we dye well. And can that man that does fo 
Need Lamentation for him ? Children weep 
Becaufe they have offended, or for fear; 

Women for want of Will and Anger; is there 
In noble man, that truly feels both Poyfes 
Of Life and Death, fo much of this weaknefs, 

To drown a glorious Death in Child and Woman ? 

I am afham’d to fee you, yet you move me, 

And were it not my Manhood would accufe me 
For covetous to live, I fhould weep with you. 

Phid. O we fhall never fee you more! 

Mcius. Tis true. 

Nor I the Miferies that Rome fhall fuffer, 

Which is a Benefit Life cannot reckon ; 

But what I have been, which is juft and faithful 

One that grew old for Rome , when Rome forgot him. 

And for he was an honeft man durft dye, 

Ye fhall have daily with you. Could that dye too, 

And I return no Traffick of my Travels, 

No Annals of old Mcius, but he lived, 

My Friends, ye had caufe to weep, and bitterly 

( 226 ) 


•C SB SSSSS - ===g§^=========g . ==> 

The common overflows of tender Women 
And Children new born; Crying were too little 
To fliew me then raoft wretched; if Tears muft be, 

I fliould in juftice weep ’em, and for you; 

You are to live, and yet behold thofe Slaughters, 

The dry and wither’d bones of Death would bleed at. 

But fooner than I have time to think what muft be, 

I fear you’l find what ftiall be. 

If you love me, 

Let that word ferve for all. Be gone, and leave me; 

I have fome little practice with my Soul, 

And then the fharpeft Sword is welcomeft Go, 

Pray be gone. Ye have obey’d me living, 

Be not for ftiame now ftubborn So 1 thank ye 

And fare you well A better Fortune guide ye. 

Phid. What {hall we do to fave our beft lov’d Mafter ? [ A fide . 

Aret. Fie to Ajfranius, who with half a Legion 
Lies in the old Subbura ; all will rife 
For the brave Mcius. 

Phid. I’le to Maximus, 

And lead him hither to prevent this Murther, 

Or help in the Revenge, which I’le make fure of. 

{Exit Phidius and Aretus. 

Mem. I hear ’em come, who ftrikes firft ? I ftay for you. 

j Enter Balbus, Chylax, Lycinius. 

Yet will I dye a Souldier, my Sword drawn, 

But againft none. Why do you fear ? Come forward. 

Balb. You were a Souldier Chylax. 

Chy. Yes, I mufter’d, 

But never faw the Enemy. 

Lycin. He’s armed. 

By Heav’n I dare not do it. 

Mcius. Why do you tremble ? 

I am to dye. Come ye not from Cajar 
To that end? Speak. 

Balb. We do, and we muft kill you. 

’Tis C ajar's Will. 

Chy. I charge you put your Sword up, 

That we may do it handfomly. 

Mcius. Ha, ha, ha! 

My Sword up! handfomely! where were you bred? 

You are the merrieft Murtherers, my Matters, 

( 227 ) 


• r ~" 1 ===C i? j. 

I ever met withal. Come forward, Fools. 

Why do you ftare ? Upon my Honour, Bawds, 

I will not ftrike you. 

Lycin. I’le not be firft. 

Balb. Nor I. 

Chy. You had beft dye quietly. The Emperor 
Sees how you bear your felf. 

Mcius. I would dye, Rafcals, 

If you would kill me quietly. 

Balb. Plague on Proculus, 

He promis’d to bring a Captain hither, 

That has been us’d to kill. 

Mcius. Fie call the Guard, 

Unlefs you kill me quickly, and proclaim 
What beaftly, bafe, cowardly Companions 
The Emperor has traded with his fafety; 

Nay, I’le give out you fell on my fide, Villains ; 

Strike home you bawdy Slaves. 

Chy. He will kill us, 

I markt his hand, he waits but time to reach us ; 

Now do you offer. 

Mcius. If you do mangle me, 

And kill me not at two blows, or at three, 

Or not fo, flagger me, my Senfes fail me, 

Look to your felves. 

Chy. I told ye. 

Mcius . Strike me manly, 

And take a thoufand ftroaks. [Enter Pontius. 

Balb. Here’s Pontius. [Licinius runs away. 

Pont. Not kill him yet ? 

Is this the Love you bear the Emperor ? 

Nay, then I fee you are Traitors all ; have at ye. 

Chy. Oh I am hurt. 

Balb. And I am kill’d [Exit Chylax and Balbus. 

Pont. Dye Bawds, 

As you have liv’d and flourifht. 

Mcius. Wretched Fellow, 

What haft thou done ? 

Pont. Kill’d them that durft not kill, 

And you are next. 

Mcius. Art thou not Pontius ? 

Pont. I am the fame you caft, Mcius , 

And in the face of all the Camp difgrac’d. 

( 228 ) 


•* ' ' ' ====§ £ £ ■ = ' > 

Meins. Then fo much nobler, as thou art a Soldier, 

Shall my death be. Is it revenge provokt thee r 
Or art thou hired to kill me? 

Pont. Both. 

Meins. Then do it. 

Pont. Is that all ? 

Meins. Yes. 

Pont. Would you not live ? 

Meius. Why fhould I ? 

To thank thee for mv Life? 

Pont. Yes, if I fpare it. 

Meius. Be not deceiv’d, I was not made to thank 
For any Courtefie but killing me, 

A fellow of thy Fortune. Do thy Duty. 

Pont. Do you not fear me ? 

Meius. No. 

Pont. Nor love me for it ? 

Meius. That’s as thou doft thy Bufinefs. 

Pont. When you are dead, your Place is mine, Meius. 

Meius. Now I fear thee, 

And not alone thee, Pontius , but the Empire. 

Pont. Why? I can govern Sir. 

Meius. I would thou coul’dft, 

And firfl thy felf : Thou canfl fight well and bravely, 

Thou can’ll endure all Dangers, Heats, Colds, Hungers; 

Heav’ns angry Flalhes are not fuddener, 

Than I have feen thee execute, nor more mortal; 

The winged feet of flying Enemies, 

I have flood and feen thee mow away like Rufhes, 

And flill kill the Killer; were thy mind 

But half fo fweet in Peace as rough in Dangers, 

I’d dye to leave a happy Heir behind me. 

Come flrike and be a General 

Pont. Prepare then, 

And for I fee your honour cannot leffen, 

And ’twere a fhame for me to flrike a dead man, 

Fight your fhort fpan out. 

Meius. No. Thou know’ll I mufl not; 

I dare not give thee fuch advantage of me 
As Difobedience. 

Pont. Dare you not defend you 
Againfl your Enemy? 

Meius. Not fent from Cajar} 

( 229 ) 


I have no power to make fuch Enemies, 

For as I am condemn’d, my naked Sword 
Stands but a Hatchment by me, only held 
To fhew I was a Souldier. Had not Cajar 
Chain’d all defence in this Doom — Let him dye, 

Old as I am, and quench’d with Scars and Sorrows 

Yet would I make this wither’d Arm do wonders, 

And open in an Enemy fuch wounds, 

Mercy would weep to look on. 

Pont. Then have at you, 

And look upon me, and be fure you fear not, 

Remember who you are, and why you live, 

And what I have been to you: Cry not hold, 

Nor think it bafe injuftice I fhould kill thee. 

PEcius. I am prepar’d for all. 

Pont. For now JSciits, 

Thou flialt behold and find I was no Traitor, [Pontius kills 

And as I do it, blefs me — Dye as I do himfelf. 

Mcius. Thou haft deceiv’d me Pontius , and I thank thee, 

By all my Hopes in Heav’n thou art a Roman. 

Pont. To fhew you what you ought to do this is not; 

But noble Sir, you have been jealous of me, 

And held me in the Rank of dangerous perfons, 

And I muft dying fay it was but juftice, 

You caft me from my Credit. Yet believe me, 

For there is nothing now but truth to fave me, 

And your forgivenefs, tho’ you hold me heinous 

And of a troubled Spirit that like fire 

Turns all to flames it meets with: You miftook me, 

If I were Foe to any thing, ’twas eafe, 

Want of the Souldiers due — The Enemy. 

The Nakednefs we found at home, and Scorn 

Children of Peace, and Pleafures — no regard 

Nor comfort for our Scars, nor how we got ’em 

To rufty time that eats our Bodies up, 

And even began to prey upon our hours 

To Wants at home, and more than Wants, Abufes 

To them that when the Enemy invaded, 

Made us their Saints, but now the Sores of Rome 

To filken Flattery, and Pride plain’d over, 

Forgetting with what Wind their Fathers sail’d, 

And under whofe proteftion their foft pleafures 
Grew full and numberlefs. To this I am Foe, 

( 23 ° ) 


•g — = = ‘S S ? == = ===== — == gg> 

Not to the State or any point of Duty; 

And let me fpeak but what a Souldier may, 

Truly I ought to be fo, yet I err’d, 

Becaufe a far more noble Sufferer, 

Shew’d me the way to Patience, and I loft it; 

This is the end I dye for, to live bafely, 

And not the follower of him that bred me, 

In full account and Virtue, Pontius dares not, 

Much lefs to out-live all that is good, and flatter. 

JEcius. I want a Name to give thy Virtue, Souldier, 

For only good is far below thee, Pontius ; 

The Gods fhall find thee one: Thou haft fafhion’d Death 
In fuch an excellent and beauteous manner, 

I wonder men can live! Canft thou fpeak one word more? 

For thy words are fuch Harmony, a Soul 
Would chufe to fly to Heav’n in. 

Pont. A farewell 

Good noble General your hand : Forgive me, 

And think whatever was difpleafing to you, 

Was none of mine. You cannot live. 

JEcius. I will not. 

Yet one word more. 

Pont. Dye nobly, Rome farewel, 

And Valentinian fall. 

In joy you have given me a quiet Death, 

I would ftrike more Wounds if I had more Breath. [Dies. 

Mcius. Is there an hour of goodnefs beyond this ? 

Or any man that would outlive fuch Dying ? 

Would Ccejar double all my Honours on me, 

And ftick me o’re with Favours like a Miftrefs; 

Yet would I grow to this man: I have Lov’d, 

But never doated on a Face till now. 

Oh Death! Thou art more than Beauty, and thy Pleafures 
Beyond Pofterity: Come Friends and kill me. 

Ctefar be kind and fend a thoufand Swords, 

The more the greater is my fall: why ftay you ? 

Come and Fie kifs your Weapons: fear me not; 

By all the Gods I’le honour ye for killing: 

Appear, or through the Court and World I’le fearch ye, 

I’le follow ye, and ere I die proclaim ye 
The Weeds of Italy, the drofs of Nature. 

Where are ye Villains, Traitors, Slaves — [Exit. 

( 231 ) 


* & 




Valentinian and the Eunuch discover'd on a Couch. 

Emp. Oh let me prefs thefe balmy Lips all day. 

And bathe my Love-fcorch’d Soul in thy moift Kiflfes. 

Now by my Joys thou art all fweet and foft, 

And thou flialt be the Altar of my Love, 

Upon thy Beauties hourly will I offer, 

And pour out Pleafure and bleft Sacrifice, 

To the dear memory of my Lucina , 

No God, nor Goddefs ever was ador’d 
With fuch Religion, as my Love fhall be. 

For in thefe charming Raptures of my Soul, 

Clafpt in thy Arms, I’le wafte my felf away, 

And rob the ruin’d World of their great Lord, 

While to the Honour of Lucina ' s Name, 

I leave Mankind to mourn the lofs for ever. 



K Indnejs hath reftfllefs Charms , 

All be fides can weakly move ; 

Fierceft Anger it difarms. 

And clips the wings of flying Love. 

2 . 

Beauty does the heart invade , 

Kindnefs only can perfwade\ 

It guilds the Lovers fervile-chain, 

And makes the Slave grow pleas'd and vain. 

Enter iEcius with two Swords. 

Emp. Hal 

What defperate Mad-man weary of his Being, 

Prefumes to prefs upon my happy Moments ? 

Aldus ? And arm’d ? Whence comes this impious Boldnefs ? 
Did not my Will, the Worlds moft facred Law, 

Doom thee to die? 

And dar’ft thou in Rebellion be alive ? 

Is Death more frightful grown than Difobedience? 

( 232 ) 



■ - & — > 

Aldus. Not for a hated Life condemn’d by you, 

Which in your Service has been ftill expos’d 
To Pain and Labours, Famine, Slaughter, Fire, 

And all the dreadful Toyls of horrid War! 

Am I thus lowly laid before your feet ! 

For what mean Wretch, who has his Duty done, 

Would care to live, when you declare him worthlefs ? 

If I muft fall, which your fevere Disfavour 
Hath made the eafier and the nobler Choice, 

Yield me not up a wretched Sacrifice 
To the poor Spleen of a bafe Favourite. 

Let not vile Inftruments deftroy the man 
Whom once you lov’d: but let your hand bellow 
That welcome Death your anger has decreed. 

[Lays his Sword at his feet. 

Emp. Go, feek the common Executioner, 

Old man, thro’ vanity and years grown mad, 

Or to reprieve thee from the Hangman’s ftroak, 

Go, ufe thy military Intereft 

To beg a milder Death among the Guards, 

And tempt my kindl’d Wrath no more with folly. 

Aldus. Ill-counfell’d thanklefs Prince, you did indeed 
Bellow that Office on a Souldier; 

But in the Army could you hope to find 
With all your Bribes a Murderer of Aldus ? 

Whom they fo long have follow’d, known and own’d 
Their God in War, and thy good Genius ever! 

Speechlefs and cold without, upon the Ground 
The Souldier lyes, whofe generous Death will teach 
Pofterity true Gratitude and Honour. 

And prefs as heavily upon thy Soul, 

Loft Valentinian , as thy barb’rous Rape. 

For which fince Heav’n alone muft punifh thee, 

I’le do Heav’ns juftice on thy bafe Affifter. [Runs at Lycias. 

Lydas. Save me, my Lord. 

Emp. Hold honeft Aldus, hold. 

I was too ralh. Oh fpare the gentle Boy! 

And I’le forgive thee all. 

Lydas. Furies and Death. [Dies. 

Emp. He bleeds! mourn ye Inhabitants of Heav’n! 

For fure my lovely Boy was one of you ! 

But he is dead, and now ye may rejoyce, 

For ye have ftol’n him from me, fpiteful Powers! 

C 233 ) 


* s ■ ■ - 1 ■ ■■ - — 3H 

Empire and Life I ever have defpis’d, 

The vanity of Pride, of Hope and Fear, 

In Love alone my Soul found real Joys! 

And ftill ye tyrannize and crofs my Love. 

Oh that I had a Sword, [Throws him a Sword. 

To drive this raving Fool headlong to Hell. [Fight. 

Meius. Take your delire, and try if lawlefs Lull 
Can Hand againft Truth, Honelly and Jultice! 

I have my Wifli. Gods ! Give you true Repentance, 

And blefs you Hill : beware of Maximum. 

[They fight. Acius runs on the Emp. Sword, and jails. Dies. 
Emp. Farewel dull Honelly, which tho’ defpis’d, 

Canft make thy owner run on certain Ruine. 

Old Meins l Where is now thy Name in War? 

Thy Intereft with fo many conquer’d Nations ? 

The Souldiers Reverence, and the Peoples Love ? 

Thy mighty Fame and Popularity ? 

With which thou kept’ll me Hill in certain fear, 

Depending on thee for uncertain fafety: 

Ah what a lamentable Wretch is he, 

Who urg’d by Fear or Sloth, yields up his pow’r 
To hope protection from his Favourite ! 

Wallowing in Eafe and Vice, feels no Contempt, 

But wears the empty Name of Prince with fcorn, 

And lives a poor lead Pageant to his Slave ! 

Such have I been to thee, honelt Meius! 

Thy pow’r kept me in awe, thy pride in pain, 

Till now I liv’d; but lince th’art dead, Tie reign. 

Enter Phidius with Maximus. 

Phid. Behold my Lord the cruel Emperor, 

By whofe tyrannick Doom the noble Mem 
Was judg’d to die. 

Emp. He was fo, fawey Slave ! 

Struck by this hand, here groveling at my feet 
The Traitor lyes 1 as thou lhalt do bold Villain ! 

Go to the Furies, carry my Defiance, 

And tell ’em, Cajar fears nor Earth nor Hell. 

Phid. Stay Mcius, and Pie wait thy mightier Gholl. 

Oh Maximus, thro’ the long vault of Death, 

I hear thy Wife cry out, revenge me ! 

Revenge me on the Ravifher ! no more 
Aretus comes to aid thee! Oh farewel! 

( 234 ) 

[Kills him. 



•* """" — ===== s- 

Emp. Ha! what, not fpeak yet? thou whofe wrongs are greateft; 

Or do the Horrors that we have been doing, 

Amaze thy feeble Soul ? If thou art a Roman , 

Anfwer the Emperor: Ctefar bids thee fpeak. 

Max. A Roman? Ha! And Ctefar bids thee fpeak? 

Pronounce thy Wrongs, and tell ’em o’re in Groans; 

But oh the Story is ineffable ! 

C*far ' s Commands, back’d with the Eloquence 
Of all the infpiring Gods, cannot declare it. 

Oh Emperor, thou Picture of a Glory! 

Thou mangled Figure of a ruin’d Greatnefs ! 

Speak, faift thou? Speak the Wrongs of Maximus ? 

Yes, I will fpeak. Imperial Murderer! 

Ravifher! Oh thou royal Villany ! 

In Purple dipt to give a Glofs to Mifchief. 

Yet ere thy Death inriches my Revenge, 

And fwells the Book of Fate, you ftatelier Mad-man, 

Plac’d by the Gods upon a Precipice, 

To make thy Fall more dreadful — Why haft thou flain 
Thy Friend ? thy only Stay for finking Greatnefs ? 

What Frenzy, what blind Fury did poffefs thee, 

To cut off thy right Hand, and fling it from thee ? 

For fuch was Mciw. 

Emp. Yes, and fuch art thou; 

Joynt Traitors to my Empire and my Glory. 

Put up thy Sword; be gone for ever, leave me, 

Tho’ Traitor, yet becaufe I once did wrong thee, 

Live like a vagrant Slave. I banifh thee. 

Max. Hold me you Gods; and judge our Paffions rightly, 

Left I fhould kill him: kill this luxurious Worm, 

Ere yet a thought of Danger has awak’d him. 

End him even in the midft of night-Debauches, 

Mounted upon a Tripos , drinking Healths 
With fhallow Rafcals, Pimps, Buffoons and Bawds, 

Who with vile Laughter take him in their Arms, 

And bear the drunken Ctefar to his Bed, 

Where to the fcandal of all Majefty, 

At every grafp he belches Provinces, 

Kiffes off Fame, and at the Empires ruine, 

Enjoys his coftly Whore. 

Emp. Peace Traitor, or thou dy’ft. 

Tho’ pale Lucina fhould diredt thy Sword, 

I would affault thee if thou offer more. 

( 235 ) 


Max . More? By the immortal Gods I will awake thee; 

Fie roufe thee C<efar, if ftrong Reafon can, 

If thou hadft ever fenfe of Roman Honour, 

Or th’ imperial Genius ever warm’d thee. 

Why haft thou us’d me thus ? for all my Service, 

My Toyls, my Frights, my Wounds in horrid War? 

Why didft thou tear the only Garland from me, 

That could make proud my Conquefts? Oh ye Gods! 

If there be no fuch thing as Right or Wrong, 

But Force alone muft fwallow all pofieffion, 

Then to what purpofe in fo long defcents 
Were Roman Laws obferv’d or Heav’n obey’d? 

If ftill the Great for Eafe or Vice were form’d, 

Why did our firft Kings toyl ? Why was the Plow 
Advanc’d to be the Pillar of the State ? 

Why was the luftful Tarquin with his Houfe 
Expell’d, but for the Rape of bleeding Lucrece ? 

Emp. I cannot bear thy words. Vext Wretch no more. 

He lhocks me. Prithee Maximus no more. 

Reafon no more; thou troubleft me with Reafon. 

Max. What fervile Rafcal, what moft abjed Slave. 

That lick’d the Duft where ere his Mafter trod, 

Bounded not from the Earth upon his feet, 

And fhook his Chain, that heard of Brutus Vengeance? 

Who that ere heard the Caufe, applauded not 
That Roman Spirit, for his great Revenge ? 

Yet mine is more, and touches me far nearer: 

Lucrece was not his Wife as fhe was mine, 

For ever ravifht, ever loft Lucina. 

Emp. Ah name her not! That Name, thy Face, and Reafon, 
Are the three things on Earth I would avoid : 

Let me forget her, I’le forgive thee all, 

And give thee half the Empire to be gone. 

Max. Thus fteel’d with fuch a Caufe, what Soul but mine 
Had not upon the inftant ended thee ? 

Sworn in that moment . — Cafar is no more; 

And fo I had. But I will tell thee Tyrant, 

To make thee hate thy Guilt, and curfe thy Fears, 

JScius, whom thou haft flain, prevented me; 

JScius, who on this bloody Spot lyes murder’d 
By barb’rous C<ejar , watcht my vow’d Revenge, 

And from my Sword preferv’d ungrateful Cajar. 

( 236 ) 


Emp. How then dar’ft thou, viewing this great Example, 
With impious Arms affault thy Emperor ? 

Max. Becaufe I have more Wit than Honefty, 

More of thy felf, more Villany than Vertue, 

More Paffion, more Revenge, and more Ambition, 

Than foolifh Honour, and fantaftick Glory. 

What? Share your Empire ? Suffer you to live? 

After the impious Wrongs I have receiv’d, 

Couldft thou thus lull me, thou might’ft laugh indeed. 

Emp. I am fatisfy’d that thou didft ever hate me, 

Thy Wifes Rape therefore was an a£t of Juftice, 

And fo far thou haft eas’d my tender Confcience. 

Therefore to hope a Friendfhip from thee now, 

Were vain to me, as is the Worlds Continuance, 

Where folid pains fucceed our fenflefs joys, 

And fhort-liv’d pleafures fleet like paffing Dreams. 

JScius, I mourn thy Fate as much as man 
Can do in my condition, that am going, 

And therefore fhould be bufie with my felf: 

Yet to thy memory I will allow 

Some grains of Time, and drop fome forrowing Tears. 

Oh JSciue! oh! 

Max. Why this is right, my Lord, 

And if thefe Drops are orient, you will fet. 

True Cajar , glorious in your going down, 

Tho’ all the Journey of your Life was cloudy. 

Allow at leaft a Poffibility, 

Where Thought is loft, and think there may be Gods, 

An unknown Countrey after you are dead, 

As well as there was one ere you were born. 

Emp. I’ve thought enough, and with that thought refolve 
To mount Imperial from the burning Pile. 

I grieve for JEcius! Yes, I mourn him, Gods, 

As if I had met my Father in the dark, 

And Arriving for the Way had murder’d him. 

Oh fuch a faithful Friend 1 that when he knew 
I hated him, and had contriv’d his Death, 

Yet then he ran his Heart upon my Sword, 

And gave a fatal proof of dying Love. 

Max. ’Tis now fit time, I’ve wrought you to my purpofe, 
Elfe at my entrance with a brutal Blow 
I’d fell’d you like a Victim for the Altar, 

Not warn’d you thus, and arm’d you for your hour, 

( 237 ) 


■ I 1 cSa — *—r— 

As if when ere Fate call’d a Cafar home. 

The judging Gods lookt down to mark his dying. 

Emp. Oh fubtil Traitor! how he dallies with me? 

Think not thou fawcy Counfellor, my Slave, 

Tho’ at this moment I fliould feel thy Foot 
Upon my Neck, and Sword within my Bowels, 

That I would ask a Life from thee. No Villain, 

When once the Emperor is at thy Command, 

Power, Life and Glory muft take leave for ever. 

Therefore prepare the utmoft of thy malice; 

But to torment thee more, and fliew how little 
All thy Revenge can do appears to C<efar — 

Would the Gods raife Lucina from the Grave, 

And fetter thee but while I might enjoy her, 

Before thy Face I’d ravifli her again. 

Max. Hark, hark Aretus , and the Legions come. 

Emp. Come all, Aretus , and the Rebel Legions; 

Let AEcius too part from the Gaol of Death, 

And run the flying race of Life again. 

I’le be the foremoft ftill, and fnatch frefh Glory 
To my laft Gafp, from the contending World; 

Garlands and Crowns too fhall attend my Dying; 

Statues and Temples, Altars fhall be rais’d 

To my great Name, while your more vile Infcriptions 

Time rots, and mouldring Clay is all your Portion. 

Enter Aretus and Souldiers. They kill the Emperor. 

Max. Lead me to Death or Empire, which you pleafe, 

For both are equal to a ruin’d man: 

But fellow-Souldiers, if you are my Friends, 

Bring me to Death, that I may there find peace, 

Since Empire is too poor to make amends 

For half the Loflfes I have undergone, 

A true Friend and a tender faithful Wife, 

The two bleft Miracles of humane Life. 

Go now and feek new Worlds to add to this, 

Search Heav’n for Bleffings to enrich the gift, 

Bring Power and Pleafure on the wings of Fame, 

And heap this Treafure upon Maximus , 

You’l make a great man not a happy one; 

Sorrows fo juft as mine muft never end, 

For my Love ravifli’d, and my murder’d Friend. [Ex. 

: 3 >« 

omnes . 

( 238 ) 



Of Sir R. Howard’s 


The Army appeares drawn up in three Battalions. The Empreffe heading ye 
maine Body , on ye right hand Hyachian, on ye left Lycurgus. 

Emp. TEAD fafter on, why creepe you thus to fight ? 

1 j Faintly to charge is fhamefuller than flight; 

Your Emperour Deify ’d hovers in ye aire 

Commands revenge and does rewards prepare 

For ye brave Glory, for ye bafe Defpaire. 

Perhaps they think or woud perfwade ye Foe, 

Warr, led by women, muft bee cold or flow. 

This day I’le prove ye Injuftice of that fcorne 
Men treat our Sex withall; Woman is borne 
With equall thirft of Honour and of Fame, 

But treacherous man mifguides her in her aime ; 

Makes her believe that all her Glories lye 
In dull Obedience, Truth, and Modefty; 

That to bee Beautifull is to bee Brave, 

And calls her Conqueror when fhe’s moft his Slave, 

Forbidding her thofe noble Paths to tread 
Which through bold daring deeds to Glory lead, 

With ye poor Hypocritical! pretence 
That Womans merit is her Innocence ; 

Who treacheroufly advis’d, Retaining thus 
The foie Ambition to bee vertuous, 

Thinks ’tis enough if fhe’s not Infamous. 

On thefe falfe grounds is mans ftol’n Triumph laid. 

Through Craft alone ye Nobler Creature made. 
r ( 241 ) 


Woman henceforth on my Example taught, 

To vafter heights of vertue fhall bee wrought, 

Train’d up in Warre and Armes fhe fhall defpife 
The mean pretended Conquefts of her Eyes. 

Nor bee contented with ye low applaufe 
Left to her Sex, (by mans tyrranique Lawes); 

Glory was never got by fitting Hill, 

The Lazy merits of not doing ill. 

Who ere afpires to reach a Glorious name, 

By Afting greatly muft lay in their Claime, 

Storm, tear, and fight with all ye world for Fame. 

Hyach. Now all the powers of Warre and Victory 
Forever to your Armes propitious bee, 

And may yet Fame they for your fword referve 
Equall ye Glory wee obtaine to ferve ! 

Lycur. I will not mingle with ye Crowd, 

Nor till my Service pleafes you bee proud, 

But if revenge through conqueft you defigne, 

For that depend on this Sole Arme of mine ; 

Guarded by this, Danger you may defpife, 

And finde your Sword as powerfull as your Eyes, 

Whofe brightnefs, fhould ye God of Battel fee 
As full of Charmes as they appeare to mee, 

Hee’d think his Venus were grown young againe, 

Leap downe from Heaven and Refume his Chaine, 

Nor though a God fhould hee your fetters weare 
Without ye hazard of a Rivall here. 

Emp. That Prince who to my Aide his Army brings, 

I doe expeCt fhall fight, not fay fine things. 

If his prefuming Vanity bee fuch, 

Let him take care his Courage bee as much, 

And with his daring hand build a pretence 
To bee forgiv’n his Tongues Impertinence. 

Lycur . Pride and contempt that often blinde ye f[ai]re 
Make them leaft pertinent wher moil fevere. 

From unaffected Truths noe Errours flow, 

I thinke you Lovely and I told you foe. 

What of my felfe I faid, I fhall make good, 

And when I fight bee better underftood. 

Emp. Fighting indeed your Riddle will explaine, 
Diffinguifhing the Valiant from the Vaine. 

Hyach. And that diftinCtion quickly will be made. 

For I perceive from yonder gloomy fhade 

( 2 4 2 ) 

$&===—======== : 

Which thefe tall woods doe or’e ye valleys throw, 

Like fwelling Tides ye numerous Tarters flow. 

Their glittering Helmets force a brighter day 
And moving Shields 

Like dancing Billows in ye funbeams Play. 

Emp. They meet my juft Revenge and their own Fate 
And have the manners not to make mee waite. 

(To Hyach.) But you brave Prince whofe deeds advance your name, 

Even with ye foremoft in ye mouth of Fame, 

Who wherefoe e’re you come bring Viftory, 

Blufh not this day to leave a part to mee ; 

I to your conduft will ye truft afford 
Of the firft Blooming Honour of my Sword; 

All here to your unequall’d worth muff yield 
This day I make you Generali of ye field. 

Hyac. Few conquefts yet my feeble hand has wrought, 

But were my deeds as humble as my thought, 

Rank’t with ye meaneft Slave that does purfue 
The matchleffe Glory here to fight for you, 

Since on my Arme you Place fuch confidence 
To think it worthy of your Fames defence, 

The foie Ambition not to prove unjuft 
May raife my Merit equall to my truft. 

Emp. My Judgement I but weakly fhoud expreffe 
To value you foe much and truft you leffe. 

But in what order will you now beftow 
The Bold Chinefes to receive ye Foe? 

Whofe difcipline as well as ours you know. 

Hyach. Fiercely ye Tartars with confufion Charge 
In broken order here and there at Large, 

With wilde Excurfions to and fro they bound 
And if not well obferv’d will charge you round ; 

But a large front fhall hinder that defigne; 

Half ye firft Legion draw into a line, 

Let ye other halfe ye two extreames inforce 
And let ye point bee wing’d with all ye horfe ; 

I’th’ middle which ye greateft fhock muft prove 
Let the maine Body of the Army move. 

Emp. My felfe and guards will at the head bee plac’t. 

Hyac. My force may follow next. 

Lycur. Lycurgus laft! I thank your Care; 

’Tis for Hyachian then that wee make warre. 

You who Create, what difference can you fee 

( 2 43 ) 

[Exit Emp. 


— & ' " » 

Twixt this admir’d Hyachian and mee ? 

Woman ! ah worthlefle woman ! erring ftill 
In ye wilde maze of thy fantaftick Will, 

Equally fliar’d betwixt thy Pride and Lull, 

Averfe to all that’s good and blinde to all that’s Juft, 

For ever is that man of worth undone 

Whom Fate into thy Barb’rous pow’r has thrown ; 

Who in ye dumb green-ficknefs of her minde 
Still hungers for ye trafli of all mankinde. 

Not an infipid Fopp on Earth does move 
For whom fome woman does not die in Love. 

Enter an Officer. 

Officer. Both Armies Sir by this time are fo neare, 

They’ll bee engag’d ere you can reach ye Reare. 

Lycur. Bid my advancing Troops with fpeed be gone 
Bid ’em ftand ftill, be quiet and look on. [Exit Officer. 

Eternall Gods ! but fure there can bee none 

To fee injuftice and looke Idly on 

But if there bee, 

Which of you ail below ye fkies 
Is not in debt to mee for Sacrifice ? 

To ye bright finning God fome prayers I make, 

Some to ye Hurtfull grim Bloodthirfty Black; 

Where either hope or fear points out ye way 
With Equall zeal, I Sacrifice, and Pray. 

If all my Prayers cannot [their] Bleflings raife, 

Have you ye Confcience to expedt my Praife, 

Though hitherto 

My innocent delires fuccess doe want ? 

But I’le ask favours, you’l not ftick to grant : 

When wee for Bleflings fue, you ftop your Eares, 

But if wee curfe, there’s not one God but hears. 

Aflift me then to bring full ruine doune 
On this infulting Woman and her Crowne. 

Are yee not [fcorn’d], blafphem’d, deny’d each [day], 

For letting Chance in mortall Adtions fway ? 

You’ll mend ye matter well, if you permit 

The Rule of things to womans Will, or Wit 

Woman of all ye Creatures you did make 
The only figne and proofe you could miftake, 

That heap of contradictions, mafs of Lyes, 

Snare of our wifties, Bane of all our Joyes; 

( 244 ) 



If for a Bleffing they were fent us, why 
Have you not given them one good quality ? 

If for a Curfe, how are you juft or wife 
To lend ’em your own form for a difguife. ? 

Enter a Soldier. 

Sold. The over-power’d Chinefes give ground, 

The Emprefs with her Guard’s encompafs’d round, 

The Prince Hyachian’s to her refcue fled 
And both by this time taken or elfe dead, 

The wings retire, the maine battalion’s broke! 

Lycur. No matter, fee my men fight not a ftroak. 

Before ye fun flip in ye azure wave, 

He fliall bee Death’s, ye Tartars’ or my Slave 

My Slave, my Wife, 

My hated Wife, now my revenge grows ftrong 
And may this way bee equall to my wrong, 

Thank[s] to you powers who marriage have allow’d 
To make thofe wretched whom you firft made proud. 

But firft Hyachian muft in duft be lay’d, 

The Army next deferted or betray’d ; 

Tis worth ye Blackeft mifchief I can doe 
To bee reveng’d, and [g]et an Empire too. 

If on ye Tartars fide the day bee loft, 

I’le take the advantage of my noble Poft, 

When the purfuit moft eager does appeare, 

I’le fall on ye Chinefes in the reare; 

If they are put to flight my forces Lye 
Neareft the Towne, and thither firft I’le fly, 

And if my beaten Emprefs fcape ye rout, 

I’le let her in, but fhut the Army out. 

Then fliall fhe from ye walls a profpeft take 
Of the free maflacre the Tartars make; 

If after fhe’l confent to marry mee 

When flie’s my Slave, I’le fet her Empire free, 

From my own province call a frefh fupply 
And beat Syunges home with Infamy. 

If ye proud wretch my proffer’d hand difdaine, 

In ftead of mee mine and death fliall reigne; 

With defolation I’le the City fill, 

And my fierce Troops fliall plunder, fire and kill ; 

When in their blood ye murder’d people fwim 
And flames for want of more fupply grow dim, 

( 245 ) 



[ Exit Sold 


Enter an Officer. 

Fie ravifh her and call ye Tartars in. 

Off. The China Army Sir has loft the day 
And driv’n by conquering Tartars fly this way; 

Your forces unengag’d your orders waite. 

Lycur. Bid ’em retire and feize ye City Gate ! 

You with fome dozen horfe muft ftay behinde, 

And if ye falfe Hyachian you can finde 
Among the fcatter’d runawayes of the field, 

Bee it your bufinefs, Sir, to fee him kill’d. 

Goe on Lycurgus, Murder and betray; 

All Ads that lead to thy defignes obey. 

Noe mifchiefe is fo Black, noe crime foe high, 

But to ye World fuccefs will juftify. 

And you, Pale deadly Daemons, of ye Night 
Whom Altars bath’d in humane gore delight, 

Affift my Plots, to make my conquefts good, 

And when I Reigne you fhall not want for food. [Exit. 

[A noife of fighting and running. 

Enter Hyachian with his Sword Drawne flopping fome who fly. 

Hya. Stay ye Bafe wretches, whither would you fly ? 

Is it a Race for chaines and Infamy ? 

Are you fuch Cowards to hide your felves in Graves, 

Or have ye hopes to bee ye Tartars’ Slaves ? 

In fhamefull flight what fafety does appeare ? 

Can yee efcape a greater Hell than feare ? 

Enter an Officer. 

Officer. Ah my deare Lord are you alive and free ? 

Hyach. Yes, and alham’d to fee your Infamy; 

How durft you bee my friend and run away. 

Off. Where Torrents drive, what Angle force can ftay ? 

North Winds broke loofe you might as foon recall, 

Fix fcatter’d leaves that in ye Autumne fall, 

Refift the Rapid motion of ye Spheare, 

As ftop the flowing Tide of Pannique feare. 

Through every Rank a fwift report was fpread 
That you were taken and ye Emprefs dead. 

At which they flying cry’d; 

After fuch Ioffes ’twas not worth their Paines 
To fight for conqueft or decline their Chaines 



« — 1 — 

Hyac. The Emprefs, by Ra£h honour, driven on 
Into ye thickeft of ye Foe -was floune. 

I to her Refcue ran midft fhowers of Darts, 

Cutting my Bloudy way through Tartars hearts ; 

On foot I found her for her horfe was kill’d, 

Strewing with gafping carcafes the field 

Some drops of Blood, 

Which from her wounds in her faire neck did flow, 

Like Rubies fet in Rocks of Silver fhow 

Alone file fought expos’d to Vulgar Blowes, 

Like a maim’d Eagle in a flock of Crowes. 

While I fought death with her I could not Save, 

One, more than all the reft generous and Brave, 

Preffes in through the Aflaffinating Crowd, 

And with a voice of Terrour cryes alowd : 

Defift, for fhame, [Ye] Feeble murderers, 

Stain not with Womans Blood your cymeters ! 

I’le lead you off 1 to nobler Victories 

The men obey him and away hee flyes. 

Thus got wee time our Army to regaine. 

But where’s Lycurgus ? Taken, Fled or Slaine ? 

Off. Lycurgus, Sir, has never charg’d at all, 

And now ftands gazing ore ye City Wall. 

Hya. In him ye ftupid Rage of Envy fee, 

Though Brave, turns Coward to be reveng’d on mee. 

Enter an Officer. 

Officer. The fcatter’d Troops 
At Amacoa’s prefence ftay their flight, 

And led by her renew a Bloudey fight. 

Hya. Noe more fhall Nations in diftrefie and thrawll 
On helplefs man for Aid in Battails call. 

This Womans Valour is above us all 

Where ere fhe fights, Beauty and Ruine Joyne, 

Rage on her Arme, while in her Eyes they fhine. 

With Story and with Death ye field fhe fills, 

So thunder, led by lightning, fhines and kills. 


( H7 ) 


To Henry Savile : I to XIX. 

To Mrs. Barry: XX to LIV. 

To his Family : LV to LXXXIX. 

To various correspondents : XC to XCV. 




Mr. Savile, 

D O a Charity becoming one of your pious Principles, in preferving 
your humble Servant Roche fter, from the imminent Peril of Sobriety; 
which, for want of good Wine more than Company, (for I can (brink like 
a Hermit betwixt God and my own Confcience) is very like to befal me: 
Remember what Pains I have formerly taken to wean you from your per- 
nicious Refolutions of Difcretion and Wifdom ! And if you have * grateful 
Heart, (which is a Miracle amongft you Statefmen) Ihew .^ by diredting 
the Bearer to the beft Wine in Town; and pray let not this higheft Point 
of f acred Friendfhip be perform’d flightly, but go about i ,t «^ all due 
deliberation and care , , * holy Priefts to Sacrifice, , or * dtfcreet Thieves to the 
wary performance of Burglary and Shop-lifting. Let your well-difcermng 
Pallat (the beft Judge about you) travel from Cellar to Cellar, and then 
from Piece to Piece, till it has lighted on Win & fit for its noble Choice and 
my Approbation. To engage you the more in this matter, know, I have 
laid a Plot may very probably betray you to the Drinking of it. My 
L or( i will inform you at large. 

Dear Savile ! as ever thou doft hope to out-do Machiavel, or equal me, 
fend fome good Wine! So may thy wearied Soul at laft find Reft^no longer 
hov’ring ’twixt th’ unequal Choice of Politicks and Lewdnefs! Maift thou 
be admir ’d and lov’d for thy domefiick Wit ; belov d and chertfh d for thy 

foreign Interefi and Intelligence. Rochester. 

( 25 1 ) 




To the same. 

[Lent, 1677.] 

’Tis not that I am the idleft Creature living, and only chufe to imploy 
my Thoughts rather upon my Friends, than to Languilh all the Day in 
the tedioufnefs of doing nothing, that I write to you; but owning, that 
(tho’ you excel moft Men in Friendihip and good Nature), you are not quite 
exempt from all humane Frailty, I fend this to hinder you from forgetting 
a Man who loves you very heartily. The World, ever lince I can re- 
member, has been ftill fo infupportably the fame, that ’twere vain to hope 
there were any alterations ; and therefore I can have no curiofity for News ; 
only I wou’d be glad to know if the Parliament be like to lit any time; 
for the Peers of England being grown of late Years very confiderable in 
the Government, I wou’d make me at the Seffion. Livy and Sicknefs has 
a little inclin’d me to Policy; when I come to Town I make no queftion 
but to change that Folly for fome lefs; whether Wine or Women I know 
not; according as my Conftitution ferves me: Till when (Dear Harry ) 
Farewel ! When you Dine at my Lord Lille's let me be remembred. 

Kings and Princes are only as Incomprehenlible as what they pretend 
to reprefent; but apparently as Frail as Thofe they Govern. — This is a 
feafon of Tribulation; and I pioully beg of Almighty God, that the ftridt 
Severity lhewn to one fcandalous Sin amongft us, may Expiate for all 
grievous Calamities. So help them God whom it concerns ! 


To the same. 

[Oftober, 1677.] 

Tho’ I am almoft Blind, utterly Lame, and fcarce within the reafonable 
hopes of ever feeing London again , I am not yet fo wholly mortified and 
dead to the tafte of all Happinejs, not to be extreamly reviv’d at the receipt 
of a kind Letter from an old Friend, who in all probability might have laid 
me a fide in his Thoughts, if not quite j or got me by this time. I ever thought 
you an extraordinary Man, and mull now think you fuch a Friend, who, 
being a Courtier, as you are, can love a Man whom it is the great Mode to 
hate. Catch Sir G. H. or Sir Carr, at fuch an ill-bred Proceeding, and I am 
millaken : For the hideous Deportment, which you have heard of, concern- 
ing running naked, fo much is true, that we went into the River fomewhat 
late in the Tear, and had a frisk for forty yards in the Meadow, to dry our- 

( 252 ) 


f elves. I will appeal to the King and the D. if they had not done as much ; 
nay, my Lord-Chancellor , and the Archbi fhops both , when they were School- 
boys-, and, at thofe Tears , I have heard the one declaim'd like Cicero, the 
others preach! d like St. A uft in : Prudenter Perfons, I conclude, they were, 
ev'n in hanging-Jleeves, than any of the fiajhy Fry (of which I muft own 
myfelf the mo ft unfolid) can hope to appear, ev'n in their ripeft Manhood. 
And now, (Mr. Savile) fince you are pleas’d to quote yourj elj for a grave 
Man oft the number of the Scandaliz'd , be pleas’d to call to mind the Year 
1676, when two large fat Nudities led the Coranto round Rofamond' s fair 
Fountain, while the poor violated Nymph wept to behold the ftrange decay 

of Manly Parts , fince the Days of her dear Harry the Second : Pr ck 

(’tis confefs’d) you fhew’d but little of, but for A and B ks, [a 

filthier Oftentation ! God wot) you expos’d more of that naftinefs in your 
two Folio Volumes , than we all together in our fix Quarto's. Pluck therefore 
the Beam out of thine own Eye , &c. And now ’tis time to thank you for 
your kind inviting me to London , to make Dutchmen merry; a thing I 
would avoid like killing Punaifes , the filthy favour of Hutch-Mirth being 
more terrible. If God in Mercy has made ’em hu fh and melancholly, do not 
you roufe their Jleeping Mirth , to make the Town mourn ; the Prince of 
Orange is exalted above 'em , and I cou’d wifh myfelf in Town to ferve him 
in fome refin'd Pleafures-, which, I fear, you are too much a Dutchman to 
think of. 

The befb Prefent I can make at this time is the Bearer, whom I beg 
you to take care of, that the King may hear his Tunes, when he is eafie 
and private, becaufe I am fure they will divert him extreamly : And may 
he ever have Harmony in his Mind, as this Fellow will pour it into his Ears : 
May he dream pleafantly, wake joyfully, love fafely and tenderly , live long 
and happily, ever prays (Dear Savile ) un Bougre Ioffe qui fera toute fa foutue 
refte de Vie, 

Vo fire fidelle , amy 

tres humble Serviteur, 



To the same. 

\Oftober, 1677.] 

You, who have known me thefe Ten Years the Grievance of all prudent 
Perfons, the By-word of Statefmen, the Scorn of ugly Ladies , which are very 
near All, and the Irreconcilable Averfion of fine Gentlemen, who are the Orna- 
mental Part of a Nation, and yet found me feldom fad, even under thefe 

( 2 53 ) 



« g= g = 

weighty Opprefftons\ can you think that the loving of Arms, f mall Legs , 

red Eyes and Nofe , (if you will confider that Trifle too) can have the Power 
to deprefs the natural Alacrity of my carelefs Soul ? efpecially upon re- 
ceiving a fine Letter from Mr, Savile , which never wants Wit and Good 
Nature, two Qualities able to tranfport my Heart with Joy , tho' it were 
breaking! I wonder at Mfancheste\r' s flaunting it in Court with fuch fine 
Clothes; fare he is an alter'd P erf on fince I faw him; for, fince I can re- 
member, neither his ownfelf , nor any belonging to him , were ever out of 
Rags . His Page alone was well cloath’d of all his Family , and that but in 
appearance; for, of late he has made no more of wearing fecond-hand 

C nts , than fecond-hand Shoes ; tho’ I muft confefs, to^his Honour, he 

chang'd ’em oftener. I wifh the King were foberly advis d about a main 
Advantage in this Marriage , which may poffibly be omitted; I mean, the 
ridding his Kingdom of fome old Beauties and young Deformities , who 
fwarm, and are a Grievance to his Liege-people . A Foreign Prince ought 
to behave himfelf like a Kite , who is allow’d to take one Royal Chick for his 
Reward\ but then ’tis expected, before he leaves the Country, his Flock 
fliall clear the whole Parifh of all the Garbage and Carrion many Miles 
about. The King had never fuch an opportunity; for the Dutch are very 
foul Feeders , and what they leave he muft never hope to be rid of, unlefs he 
fet up an Intrigue with the Tartars or Coflfacks. For the Libel you fpeak 
of, upon that mo ft unwitty Generation the prefent Poets, I rejoice in it with 
all my Heart, and fliall take it for a Favour, if you will fend me a Copy . 
He cannot want Wit utterly, that hat a Spleen to thofe Rogues, tho’ never 
fo dully exprefs’d. And now, dear Mr. Savile, forgive me, if I do not 
wind up myfelf with an handfom Period. 



To the same . 


This day I receiv’d the unhappy News of my own Death and Burial . 
But hearing what Heirs and Succeffors were decreed me in my Place , and 
chiefly in my Lodgings , it was no fmall Joy to me that thofe Tidings prove 
untrue ; my Paffion for living is fo encreas’d, that I omit no Care of myfelf ', 
which before I never thought Life worth the trouble of taking. The King, 
who knows me to be a very ill-natur'd Man, will not think it an eafie matter 
for me to dye, now I live chiefly out of fpight. Dear Mr. Savile, afford me 
fome News from your Land of the Living ; and tho’ I have little Curiofity 
to hear who’s well, yet I would be glad my few Friends are fo, of whom you 

( 254 ) 


« — " 1 — » 

are no more the leaft than the leaneft. I have better Compliments for you, 
but that may not look fo fincere as I would have you believe I am , when 
I profefs myfelf, 

Tour faithful, affettionate, 

humble Servant, 

Adderbury, near Rochester. 

Banbury, Feb. ult. 

My Service to my Lord Middlefex. 


To the same. 

[June, 1678.] 

Any kind of Correfpondence with fuch a Friend as you, is very agree- 
able; and therefore you will eafily believe, I am very ill when I lofe the 
opportunity of Writing to you: But Mr. JPovy comes into my Mind, and 
hinders farther Complement: In a plainer way I mtift tell you, I pray for 
your happy Rejloration ; but was not at all forry for your Glorious Dif grace, 
which is an Honour, confidering the Cauje. I wou’d fay fomething to 
the ferious part (as you were pleas’d to call it) of your former Letter; but 
it will difgrace my Politicks to differ from yours, who have wrought now 
fometime under the best and kneeneii Statefmen our Cabinet boafts of: But, 
to confefs the Truth, my Advice to the Lady you wot of, has ever been 
this, Take your meafures juft contrary to your Rivals, live in Peace with all 
the World, and eafily with the King : Never be fo Ill-natur'd to ftir up his 
Anger again ft others, but let him forget the ufe of a Paffton, which is never to 
do you good : Cherifh his Love where-ever it inclines, and be affur' d you can’t 
commit greater Folly than pretending to be jealous-, but, on the contrary, with 
Hand, Body, Head, Heart and all the Faculties you have, contribute to his 
Pleafure all you can , and comply with his De fires throughout: And, for new 
Intrigues , fo you be at one end ’tie no matter which : Make Sport when you 

can, at other times help it. Thus, I have giv’n you an account how unfit 

I am to give the Advice you propos’d : Befides this, you may judge, 
whether I was a good Pimp, or no. But fome thought otherwife-, and fo 
truly I have renounc’d Buftnefs; let abler Men try it. More a great deal 
I would fay, but upon this Subjeft, and for this time, I beg, this may 
fuffice, from 

Tour humble, and moft affectionate 

faithful Servant, 


( 255 ) 

To the same. 

[June, 1678.] 

If Sack and Sugar be a Sin, God help the Wicked ; 

was the Saying of a merry fat Gentleman, who liv’d in Days of Tore, 
lov’d a Glafs of Wine, wou’d be merry with a Friend, and fometimes had 
an unlucky Fancy for a Wench. Now (dear Mr. Savile) forgive me, if 
I confefs that upon feveral occafions you have put me in mind of this fat 
Perfon, and now more particularly for thinking upon your prefent Cir- 
cumftances, I cannot but fay with my felf, If loving a pretty Woman, and 
hating Lautherdale, bring Banifhments and Pox, the Lord have mercy upon 

poor Thieves and S s ! But by this time all your Inconveniencies (for, 

to a Man of your very good fence, no outward Accidents are more) draw 
very near their end: For my own part I’m taking pains not to die, with- 
out knowing how to live on, when I have brought it about: But moft 
human Affairs carried on at the fame nonfenlical rate, which makes me, 
(who am now grown Superftitious) think it a Fault to laugh at the Monkey 
we have here, when I compare his Condition with Mankind. You will be 
very good-natur’d if you keep your Word, and write to me fometimes; 
and fo, good Night, dear Mr. Savile. 


To the same. 

[July, 1678.] 

Were I as Idle as ever, which I fhou’d not fail of being, if Health per- 
mitted; I wou’d write a fmall Romance, and make the Sun with his dif- 
hievetd Rays guild the Tops of the Palaces in Leather-Lane : Then fhou’d 
thofe vile Enchanters Barten and Ginman, lead forth their Illuftrious Captives 
in Chains of Qyickfilver, and confining ’em by Charms to the loathfome Banks 
of a dead Lake of Byet-drink\ you, as my Friend, fhou’d break the horrid 
Silence, and fpeak the moft pafftonate fine things that ever Heroick Lover 
utter’d; which being foftly and fweetly reply’d to by Mrs. Roberts, fhou’d 

rudely be interrupted by the envio us F . Thus wou’d I lead the mournful 

Tale along, ’till the gentle Reader bath'd with the Tribute of his Eyes, the 

Names of fuch unfortunate Lovers And this (I take it) wou’d be a moft 

excellent way of celebrating the Memories of my moft Pockey Friends, Com- 
panions and Miftrejfes. But it is a miraculous thing (as the Wife have it) 

( 256 ) 


* — - - - — > 

when a Man, half in the Grave, cannot leave off -playing the Fool, and the 
Buffoon ; but fo it falls out to my Comfort: For at this Moment I am in 
a damn'd Relapfe, brought by a Feavour, the Stone, and fome ten Difeafes 
more, which have depriv’d me of the Power of crawling, which I happily 
enjoy’d fome Days ago; and now I fear, I muft fall, that it may be fulfilled 
which was long Cnee written for Inflrudion in a good old Ballad, 

But he who lives not Wife and Sober, 

Falls with the Leaf ffill in October. 

About which time, in all probability, there may be a period added to the 
ridiculous being of 

Your humble Servant, 



To the same. 

Whether Love, or the Politicks have the greater Intereft in your Journey 
to France, becaufe it is argu’d among wifer Men, I will not conclude upon; 
but hoping fo much from your Friendfhip, that without Referve, you will 
truft me with the time of your ftay in Paris, I have writ this to allure you, 
if it can continue a Month, I will not fail to wait on you there. My Refo- 
lutions are to employ this Winter for the Improvement of my Parts in 
Forreign Countries, and if the Temptation of feeing you, be added to the 
Defires I have already, the Sin is fo fweet, that I am refolv’d to embrace it, 

and leave out of my Prayers, Libera nos a Malo For Thine is My 

Kingdom, Power and Glory, for ever and ever. 


Septemb . 5 [1678]. Rochester. 


To the same. 


’Tis not the leafl of my Happinefs, that I think you love me, but the firft 
of all my Pretenfions is to make it appear, that I faithfully endeavour to 
defense it. If there be a real good upon Earth, 'tis in the Name of Friend , 
s ( 257 ) 



* „ , & = ^ 

without which all others are meerly fantaftical. How few of us are Jit fluff 

to make that thing , we have daily the melancholly experience. However, 
Dear Harry ! Let us not give out , nor defpair of bringing that about, which 
as it is the moft difficult , and rare Accident of Life , is alfo the beft; nay, 
(perhaps) the only good one. This Thought has fo entirely poflfeft me lince 
I came into the Country, (where, only , one can think\ for, you at Court think 
not at all\ or, at lea ft, as if you were jhut up in a Drum ; you can think of 
nothing , but the noife that is made about you) that I have made many 
ferious Reflections upon it, and amongft others , gather’d one Maxime, 

which I defire fliou’d be communicated to our Friend Mr. G ; That, 

we are bound in Morality and common Hone fly, to endeavour after competent 
Riches ; fince, it is certain, that few Men, if any, uneafie in their Fortunes, 
have prov’d firm, and clear in their Friendfhips. A very poor Fellow, is 
a very poor Friend ; and not one of a thoufand can be good natur’d to another, 
who is not pleas'd within himfelf. But while I grow into Proverbs, I forget 
that you may impute my Philofophy to the Dog-days, and living alone. To 
prevent the Inconveniences of Solitude, and many others ; I intend to go to 
the Bath on Sunday next, in Vifitation to my Lord Treafurer : Be fo Politick, 
or be fo kind, (or a little of both, which is better) as to ftep down thither, if 
famous Affairs at Windfor, do not detain you. Dear Harry ! I am 

Tour Hearty, Faithful, Affeftionate, 

Humble Servant, 


If you fee the Duchefs 0/ Portsmouth] very often, take fome opportunity 
to talk to her about what I fpoke to you at London. 


To the same. 


If it were the Sign of an honeft Man, to be happy in his Friends, fure I 
were mark’d out for the worft of Men; fince no one e’er loft fo many as I 

have done, or knew to make fo few. The Severity, you fay the D. of P 

fhews to me, is a proof that ’tis not in my power to deferve well of any 
Body; fince (I call Truth to Witnefs) I have never been guilty of an Error, 
that I know, to her: And this may be a warning to you, that remain in 
the Miftake of being kind to me, never to expeCl a grateful Return; fince I 
am fo utterly ignorant how to make it : To value you in my Thoughts, to prefer 

( 258 ) 


* =*• ===== 1 "" S' 

you in my Wifhes, to ferve you in my Words ; to obferve, ftudy, and obey you 
in all my Adions, is too little ; fince I have performed all this to her , without 
fo much as an offenfive Accident. And yet file thinks it juft, to ufe me ill. 
If I were not malicious enough to hope fhe were in the wrong ; I muft have a 
very melancholly Opinion of myfelf. I wifli your Intereft might prevail with 
her, as a Friend of hers, not mine, to tell how I have deferv’d it of her, 
fince file has ne’r accus’d me of any Crime, but of being Cunning ; and I 
told her, Some-body had been Cunninger than I, to p erf wade her fo. I can 
as well fupport the Hatred of the whole World, as any Body, not being 
generally fond of it. Thofe whom I have oblig'd, may ufe me with In- 
gratitude, and not affii£t me much : But to be injur’d by thofe who have 
oblig'd me, and to whofe Service I am ever bound; is fuch a Curfe, as I can 
only wifh on them who wrong me to the Dutchefs. 

I hope you have not forgot what G y and you have promis’d me; 

but within fome time you will come and fetch me to London : I fhall fcarce 
think of coming, till you call me, as not having many prevalent Motives 
to draw me to the Court, if it be fo that my Mafter has no need of my 
Service, nor my Friends of my Company. 

Mr. Shepheard is a Man of a fluent Stile and coherent Thought; if, as 
I fufpeft, he writ your Poftfcript. 

I wifli my Lord Halifax Joy of every Thing, and of his Daughter to boot. 



To the same. 

Begun, Whitehall, May 30th, 79. 

’Tis neither Pride or Negled (for I am not of the new Council , and I 
love you fincerely ) but Idlenefs on one fide, and not knowing what to fay 
on the other, has hindred me from Writing to you, after fo kind a Letter, 
and the Prefent you fent me, for which I return you at laft my humble 

Thanks. Changes in this place zrefo frequent, that F himfelf can now 

no longer give an account, why this was done to Day, or what will enfue 
to Morrow ; and Accidents are fo extravagant, that my Lord W intend- 

ing to Lye , has with a Prophetick Spirit, once told truth. Every Man in this 
Court thinks he ftands fair for Minifter‘, fome give it to Shaftsbury, others 

to Halifax ; but Mr. Waller fays S does all ; I am fure my Lord A 

does little, which your Excellence will eafily believe. And now the War 
in Scotland takes up all the Difcourfe of Politick Perfons. His Grace of 

( 259 ) 


Lauderdale values himfelf upon the Rebellion, and tells the King, It is very 
Aufpicious, and advantageous to the drijt of the prefent Councils : The reft of 

the Scots , and efpecially D. H are very inquifitive after News from 

Scotland, and really make a handfome Figure in this Conjuncture at London . 
What the D. of Monmouth will effedt, is now the general expectation , who 
took Pojl unexpectedly , left all that had offer’d their Service in this Expedi- 
tion, in the lurch, and being attended only by Sir Thomas Armftrong, and 
Mr. C will, without queflion, have the full Glory as well of the Pru- 

dential, as the Military part of this Action entire to himfelf. The molt 
profound Politicians have weighty Brows, and careful AfpeCts at prefent, upon 
a Report crept abroad, That Mr. Langhorn to fave his Life , offers a Difcovery 
of Priefts and Jefuits Lands, to the value of fourf core and ten thoufand Pounds 
a Tear, which being accepted, it is fear’d, Partifans and Undertakers will 
be found out to advance a confiderable Sum of Money upon this Fund, to 
the utter interruption of Parliaments, and the DefiruCiion of many hopeful 
Defigns. This, I muft call God to witnefs, was never hinted to me in the 
leaf by Mr. P to whom I beg you will give me your hearty Recom- 

mendations. Thus much to afford you a tafte of my ferious Abilities , and 
to let you know I have a great Goggle-Eye to Bufmefs : And now I cannot 
deny you a fhare in the high fatisfadtion I have receiv’d at the account 
which flourifhes here of your high Proteftancy at Paris : Charenton was never 
fo Honour’d, as fince your Rejidence and Miniftry in France , to that degree, 
that it is not doubted if the Parliament be fitting at your return, or other- 
wife the Mayor and Common-Council, will Petition the King you may be 
dignified with the Title of that place, by way of Earldom or Dukedom, as his 
Majefiy fhall think mofi proper to give, or you accept. 

Mr. .S' is a Man of that tendernefs of heart, and approv'd humanity, 

that he will doubtlefs be highly affiidted when he hears of the unfortunate 
Pilgrims, tho’ he appears very obdurate to the Complaints of his own befi 

Concubine, and your fair Kinf woman M who now ftarves. The Packet 

inclos’d in your laft, I read with all the fence of Compaffion it merits, and 
if I can prove fo unexpedtedly happy to fucceed in my Endeavours for 
that Fair Unfortunate, £he fhall have a fpeedy account. I thank God, there 
is yet a Harry Savile in England, with whom I drank your Health laft Week 
at Sir William Coventry es ; and who in Features , Proportion and Pledging, 
gives me fo lively an Idea of your felf, that I am refolv’d to retire into 
Oxfordfhire, and enjoy him till Shiloe come, or you from France. 


Ended the 25th of June, 1679. 

( 260 ) 



3 * 


To the same . 


Whether Love, Wine or Wifdom, (which rule you by turns) have the 
prefent afcendant I cannot pretend to determine at this diftance; but good 
Nature , which waits about you with more diligence than Godfrey himfelf, is 
my fecurity that you are [not] unmindful of your abfent Friends : To be from 
you, and forgotten by you at once, is a Misfortune I never was criminal enough 
to merit, fince to the Black and Fair Countefs, I villanoufly betray'd the daily 
Addreffes of your divided Heart: You forgave that upon the firft Bottle , 
and upon the fecond, on my Confcience, wou’d have renounc'd them and 
the whole Sex ; Oh! That fecond Bottle (Harry!) is the Sincerefi, Wifeft, and 
moft Impartial Downright Friend we have; tells us truth of our f elves, and 
forces us to fpeak Truths of others', banifhes Flattery from our Tongues, and 
diflrufl from our Hearts, fets us above the mean Policy of Court-Prudence ; 
which makes us lie to one another all Day, for fear of being betray'd by 
each other at Night. And (before God) I believe, the errantefl Villain 
breathing, is honeft as long as that Bottle lives , and few of that Tribe dare 
venture upon him, at leaft, among the Courtiers and Statefmen. I have 
ferioufly confider’d one thing, That [of] the three Bufineffes of this Age, 
Women, Politicks and Drinking, the la ft is the only Exercife at which you 
and I have not prov’d our felves errant Fumblers : If you have the Vanity 
to think otkerwife\ when we meet, let us appeal to Friends of both Sexes, 
and as they fhall determine, live and die their Drunkards, or entire Lovers. 
For, as we mince the Matter, it is hard to fay which is the moft tirefome 
Creature , loving Drunkard, or the drunken Lover. 

If you ventur’d your fat Buttock a Gallop to Portfmouth, I doubt not but 
thro’ extream Galling, you now lie Bedrid of the Piles, or Fiftula in Ano, 
and have the leifure to write to your Country-Acquaintance, which if you 
omit I fhall take the Liberty to conclude you very Proud. Such a Letter 
fhou’d be direfted to me at Adderbury, near Banbury , where I intend to 
be within thefe three Days. 

Bath, the 22d of June, from 

Tour obedient humble Servant, 


( 261 ) 


« — = ==C S == " s * 


To the same . 

I am in a great ftraight what to write to you; the ftile of Bufinefs I am 
not vers’d in, and you may have forgot the familiar one we us’d heretofore. 
What Alterations Miniflry makes in Men, is not to be imagined ; though I 
can truft with confidence all thofe You are liable to, fo well I know you, 
and fo -perfectly I love you. We are in fuch a fetled Happinefs , and fuch 
merry Security in this place, that if it were not for Sicknefs , I could pafs 
my time very well, between my own ill-nature , which inclines me very little 
to pity the Misfortunes of malicious miflaken Fools , and the Policies of the 
Times, which expofe new Rarities of that kind every day. The News I have 
to fend, and the fort alone which could be fo to you, are things Gyaris & 
carcere digna , which I dare not truft to this pretty Fool the Bearer, whom I 
heartily recommend to your Favour and Protection, and whofe Qualities will 
recommend him more; and truly if it might fuit with your Character, at 
your times of leifure, to [make] Mr. Bap lift’s Acquaintance, the happy Con- 
sequence would btfinging, and in which your Excellence might have a fhare 
notunworthy the greateft Ambaff adors, nor to be defpis’d even by a Cardinal- 
Legate ; the greateft and graveft of this Court of both Sexes have tailed his 
Beauties-, and, I’ll allure you, Rome gains upon us here, in this Point mainly; 
and there is no part of the Plot carried with fo much Secrefie and Vigour 

as this. Profelytes, of confequence, are daily made, and my Lord S ’s 

Imprifonment is no Check to any. An account of Mr. George Porter’s Retire- 
ment, upon News that Mr. Grimes, with one Gentleman more, had invaded 

England, Mr. S ’s Apology, for making Songs on the Duke of M. 

with his Oration-Confolatory on my Lady D ’s Death, and a Politick 

Difjf ertation between my Lady P s and Capt. Dangerjield, with many 

other worthy Treatifes of the like nature, are things worthy your perufal; 
but I durft not fend ’em to you without leave , not knowing what Confe- 
quence it might draw upon your Circumftances and Character ; but if they 
will admit a Correfpondence of that kind, in which alone I dare prefume to 
think myfelf capable, I fhall be very induftrious in that way, or any other, 
to keep you from forgetting, 

Your moft affectionate, 

White-hall obliged, humble Servant, 

Nov. i., 

...•79* Rochester. 

( 262 ) 

= 33 - 


•« = ====££ &=== 


To the same . 


The Lowfinefs of Affairs in this place, is fuch (forgive the unmannerly 
Phrafel Exprefftons muff defcend to the Nature of Things exprefs’d) ’tis 
not fit to entertain a -private Gentleman, much lefs one of a publick Cha- 
ra&er , with the Retaile of them; the general Heads , under which this whole 
IJland may be confider’d, are Spies , Beggars and Rebels , the Tranfpofitions 
and Mixtures of thefe, make an agreeable Variety ; Bufie Fools , and Cautious 
Knaves are bred out of ’em, and fet off wonderfully; tho’ of this latter 
fort, we ha ve. fewer now than ever, Hypocrifie being the only Vice in decay 
amongft us , few Men here dijfemble their being Raj cals ; and no Woman 

dijowns being a Whore : Mr. O was Try’d two Days ago f or Buggery, 

and Clear’d: The next Day he brought his Action to the King’s Bench , 
againfl: his Accufer, being attended by the Earl of Shajtsbury, and other 
Peers, to the number of feven, for the Honour of the Protestant Cause. 
I have fent you herewith a Libel, in which my own fliare is not the leaft; 
the King having perus’d it, is no ways difatisfy’d with his : the Author is 
apparently Mr. [Dryden], his Patron my [Lord MulgraveJ having a 
Panegerick in the midft, upon which happen’d a handfome Quarrel 

between his L , and Mr. B at the Dutchefs of P ; flie call’d 

him : The Heroe of the Libel, and Complimented him upon having made 
more Cuckolds, than any Man alive; to which he anfwer’d, She very 
well knew one he never made, nor never car’d to be imploy’d in making. 

Rogue and Bitch enfued, till the King, taking his Grand-father’s 

Charafter upon him, became the Peace-maker. I will not trouble you any 
longer, but beg you ftill to Love 

Tour Faithful, 

Humble Servant, 



To the same. 

[ High Lodge, Woodftock, 1679.] 

You cannot lhake off the Statefman intirely, for I perceive you have 
no Opinion of a Letter, that is not almoft a Gazette: Now, to me, who 
think the World as giddy as my felf, I care not which way it turns, and 
am fond of no News, but the Profperity of my Friends, and the continu- 

( 263 ) 


« ' Cg = = 

ance of their Kindnefs to me, which is the only Error I wifli to continue 
in ’em: For my own part, I am not at all ftung with my Lord M[ulgrave]’s. 
mean Ambition, but I afpire to my Lord L[ovelace]’s generous Philofophy : 
They who would be great in our little Government, feem as ridiculous to 
me as School-boys, who with much endeavour, and fome danger, climb a 
Crab-tree, venturing their Necks for Fruit which folid Piggs would difdain 
if they were not ftarving. Thefe Reflections, how idle foever they feem to 
the Bufie, if taken into confideration, would fave you many a weary ftep 

in the day, and help G y to many an hours ileep, which he wants in 

the night; but G y would be rich, and, by my troth, there is fome 

fence in that: Pray remember me to him, and tell him, I with him many 
Millions, that his Soul may find reft. You write me word, That I’m out 
of favour with a certain Poet, whom I have ever admir’d, for the dispro- 
portion of him and his Attributes : He is a Rarity which I cannot but be 
fond of, as one would be of a Hog that could fiddle, or a finging Owl. If 
he falls upon me at the Blunt, which is his very good Weapon in Wit, I 
will forgive him, if you pleafe, and leave the Repartee to Black Will, with 
a Cudgel. And now, Dear Harry , if it may agree with your Affairs, to 
fhew yourfelf in the Country this Summer, contrive fuch a Crew together,, 
as may not be afham’d of palling by Woodflocb, and if you can debauch 

Alderman G y, we will make a fhift to delight his Gravity. I am forry 

for the declining D. and would have you generous to her at this time, for 
this is true Pride, and I delight in it. 



To the same. 


That Night I receiv’d by Tours the furprizing Account of my Lady 
Dutchefs’s more than ordinary Indignation againft me, I was newly brought 
in dead of a Fall from my Horfe, of which I ftill remain Bruis’d and 
Bedrid, and can now fcarce think it a Happinefs that I fav'd my Neck. 
What ill Star reigns over me, that I’m ftill mark’d out for Ingratitude, and 
only us’d harbaroujly [by] thofe I am oblig'd to ! Had I been troublefome to' 
her in pinning the Dependance of my Fortune upon her Solicitations to the- 
King, or her Unmerited Recommendations of me to fome Great Man ; it would 
not have mov’d my Wonder much, if fhe had fought any Occafion to be 
rid of a ufelefs Trouble : But, a Creature who had already receiv’d of her 
all the Obligations he ever could pretend to, except the continuance of her 
good Opinion, for the which he refold'd, and did dir ell every ftep of his Life 

( 264 ) 


•S == & 

in Duty and Service to her , and all who were concern'd in her\ why fhould 
fhe take the Advantage of a falje idle Story , to hate fuch a Man-, as if it 
were an Inconvenience to her to be harmless, or a Pain to continue juft ? 
By that God that made me, I have no more offended her in Thought , W ord, 
or Deed , no more imagin' d or utter' d the leajl Thought to her Contempt or 
Prejudice, than I have plotted Treafon, conceal d Arms, Train'd Regiments for 
a Rebellion. If there be upon Earth a Man of Common Honejly, who will 
juftifie a Tittle of her Accujation, I am contented never to fee her. After 
this, fhe need not forbid me to come to her, I have little Pride or Pleajure 
in piewing my f elf where I am accus’d of a Meannefs I were not capable of, 
even for her Service, which would prove a fhrewder Tryal of my Honejly 
than any Ambition I ever had to make my Court to. I thought the D. of P. 
more an Angel than I find her a Woman ; and as this is the firft, it fhall 
be the mop malicious thing I will ever fay of her. For her generous Refolu- 
tion of not hurting me to the King, I thank her\ but fhe muff think a Man 
much oblig’d, after the calling of him Knave, to fay fhe will do him no 

farther Prejudice. For the Countefs of P , whatever fhe has heard 

me fay, or any body elfe, of her, I’ll ftand the Teft of any impartial Judge, 
’twas neither injurious nor unmannerly ; and how fevere foever fhe pleafes 
to be, I have always been her humble Servant, and will continue fo. I do 
not know how to allure myfelf the D. will fpare me to the King who would 
not to you ; I’m fure fhe can’t fay I ever injur’d you to her-, nor am I at 
all afraid fhe can hurt me with you-, I dare fwear you don’t think I have 
dealt fo indifcreetly in my Service to her, as to doubt me in the Friend fhip 
I profefs to you. And to fhew you I relye upon yours , let me beg of you 
to talk once more with her, and defire her to give me the fair hearing lhe 
would afford any Footman of hers, who had been complain’d of to her by 
a lefs-worthy Creature , (for fuch a one, I affure myfelf, my Accufer is) unlefs 
it be for her Service, to wrong the moft faithful of her Servants ; and then 
I fhall be proud of mine. I would not be run down by a Company of 
Rogues, and this looks like an Endeavour towards it : Therefore (Dear 
Harry) fend me word how I am with other Folks ; if you vifit my Lord 
Treafurer, name the Calamity of this matter to him, and tell me fincerely 
how he takes it: And if you hear the King mention me, do the Office of 
a Friend to 

Tour humble Servant \ 

Rochester. ? 







To the same. 

In' my return from New-market , I met your Packquet, and truly was not 
more furprifed at the Indireftnefs of Mr. P.’s Proceedings than overjoy'd 
at the Kindnejs and Care of Tours. Mifery makes all Men lejs or more dif- 
honeft\ and I am not aftontfh'd to fee Villany induftrious for Bread; efpecially, 
living in a place where it is often fo de gayete de Cceur. I believe, the Fellow 
thought of this Device to get fome Money, or elfe he is put upon it by fome 
body, who has given it him already ; but I give him leave to prove what 
he can againft me: However, I will fearch into the Matter, and give you 
a further account within a Poll or two. In the mean time you have made 
my Heart glad in giving me fuch a Proof of your Friendfhip, and I am 
now fenfible, that it is natural for you to be kind to me, and can never more 
defpair of it. 

I am your faithful^ oblig'd, 

humble Servant , 


Apr.5.80. Rochester. 


To the same. 

You are the only Man of En gland, that keep Wit with your Wifdom\ 
and I am happy in a Friend that excels in both. Were your Good Nature the 
leafl of your Good Qualities, I durft not prefume upon it, as I have done; 
but I know you are fo fincerely concern’d in fervingyour Friends truly , that 
I need not make an Apology for the Trouble I have given you in this 
Affair. I daily expeft more confiderable effects of your Friendfhip, and 
have the V unity to think, I fhall be the better for your growing poorer. In 
the mean time, when you pleafe to diftinguifh from Profers and Windham, 
and comply with Rofers and Bull, not forgetting John Stevens, you fliall 
find me 

Tour moft Ready, 

and moft Obedient Servant, 


( 266 ) 



: 2 >* 





So much Wit and Beauty , as You have, fhou’d think of nothing lefs 
than doing Miracles \ and there cannot be a greater , than to continue to 
love Me: affe&ing every thing is mean , as loving Pleafure, and bein gfond 
where you find Merits but to pick out the wild eft, and moft fantaftical odd 
Man alive, and to place your Kindnefs there, is an A£t fo brave and daring , 
as will fliew the Greatnefs of your Spirit, and diftinguifti you in Love , as 
you are in all things elfe, from Womankind. Whether I have made a 
good Argument for myfelf, I leave you to judge-, and beg you to believe me, 
whenever I tell you what Mrs. R. is, fince I give you fo fincere an Account 
of her humbleft Servant: Remember the Hour of a ftritt Account, when 
both Hearts are to be open, and we oblig’d to fpeak freely, as you order’d 
it Tefterday, for fo I muft ever call the Day I faw you la ft, fince all time 
between that and the next Viftt, is no part of my Life, or at leaft like a 
long Fit of the Falling- ftcknefs, wherein I am dead to all Joy and Happinefs. 
Here’s a damn’d impertinent Fool bolted in, that hinders me from ending 

my Letter ; the Plague of take him, and any Man or Woman alive 

that take my Thoughts off of You : But in the Evening I will fee you, and 
be happy in fpite of all the Fools in the World. 


To the same. 


If there be yet alive within you the leaft Memory of me, which I can 
hope only, becaufe of the Life that remains with me, is the dear Remem- 
brance of you; and methinks your Kindnefs, as the younger fhou’d out- 
live mine: Give me leave to afifure you, I wil meet it very Ihortly with fuch 
a fhare on my fide, as will juftifie me to you from all Ingratitude ; tho’ 
your Favours are to me the greateft Blifs this World, or Womankind, which 
I think Heaven can beftow, (but the hopes of it:) If there can be any 
Addition to one of the highest Miffortunes, my Abfence from you has found 
the way to give it me, in not affording me the leaft Occafion of doing you 
any Service fince I left you: It feems, till I am capable of greater Merit, 

( 267 ) 


- ££ = 3 * 

you refolve to keep me from the Vanity of pretending any at all. Pray 
confider when you give another leave to jerve you, more than /, how much 
Injuftice you run the hazard of committing, when it will not be in your power 
to reward that More-deserving Man with half fo much Happinefs as’you 
have thrown away upon my Worthlefs Self. 

Tour Rejilejs Servant , 


To the same . 


I know not well who has the worft on’t, you, who love but a little , 
or I, who doat to an Extravagance ; fure, to be half kind, is as bad as to be 
half witted; and Madnefs , both in Love and Reafon , bears a better Chara&er 
than a moderate State of either. Would I cou’d bring you to my Opinion , 
in this Point; I wou’d then confidently pretend you had too juft Excep- 
tions either againft me or my Paffion , the Flefh and the Devil ; I mean, 
all the Fools of my own Sex, and that fat, with the other lean One of yours, 
whole prudent Advice is daily concerning you, how dangerous it is to be 
kind to the Man , upon Earth, who loves you be ft. I, who ftill perfwade 
myfelf, by all the Arguments I can bring, that I am Happy , find this none 
of the leaft, that you are too unlike thefe People every way, to agree with 
’em in any particular. This is writ between Jleeping and waking, and I 
will not anfwer for its being Sence\ but I, dreaming you were at Mrs. 

N ’s, with five or fix Fools, and the lean Lady, wak’d, in one of your 

Horrours, and, in Amaze, Fright, and Confufion, fend this to beg a kind 
one from you, that may remove my Fears, and make me as Happy as I 
am Faithful . 


To the same. 

Dear Madam, 

You are ftark Mad, and therefore the fitter for me to love\ and that 
is the reafon, I think, I can never leave to be 

Tour Humble Servant, 

( 268 ) 


cS ? ===== = — » 


To the same. 


To convince you how /a/? I muft ever be to you, I have fent this on 
purpofe, that you may know you are not a moment out of my Thoughts ; 
and fince fo much Merit as you have, and fuch convincing Charms (to me 
at leaft) need not wifh a greater Advantage over any; to forget you, is the 
only Reprieve poffible for a Man fo much your Creature and Servant as 
I am; which I am fo far from wifhing, that I conjure you by all the Affur- 
ances of Kindnefs you have ever made me Proud and Happy with, that 
not two Days can pafs without fome Letter from you to me: You muft 

leave ’em, &c. to be fent to me with fpeed. And, till the bleji 

Hour wherein I lhall fee you again, may Happinefs of all kinds be as far 
from me, as I do, both in Love and Jealoufie , pray Mankind may be 
from you. 


To the same. 


There is now no minute of my Life that does not afford me fome new 
Argument how much I love you; the little Joy I take in every thing wherein 
you are not concern’d, the pleafing Perplexity of endlefs Thought , which I 
fall into, where-ever you are brought to my remembrance ; and laftly, the 
continual Dif quiet I am in, during your Abfence , convince me fufficiently, 
that I do you Juftice in loving you, fo as Woman was never lov'd before. 


To the same. 


Your fafe Delivery has deliver’d me too from Fears for your fake, 
which were, I’ll promife you, as burthenfom to me, as your Great-belly cou’d 
be to you. Every thing has fallen out to my Wifh, for you are out of 
Danger, and the Child is of the joft Sex I love. Shortly my Hopes are to 
fee you, and in a little while after to look on you with all your Beauty about 
you. Pray let no Body, but yourfelf open the Box I fent you; I did not 
know, but that in Lying-inn you might have ufe of thofe Trifles ; ftck, and 
in Bed, as I am, I cou’d come at no more of ’em; but if you find ’em, or 
whatever is in my power of ufe, to your Service, let me know it. 



= - = =Cg — 


To the same. 


This is the firft Service my Hand has done me, fince my being a 
Cripple , and I wou’d not imploy it in a Lie fo foon; therefore, pray be- 
lieve me fincere, when I allure you, that you are very dear to me; and, 
as long as I live, I will be kind to you, 

P.S. This is all my Hand wou’d write, but my Heart thinks a great 
deal more. 


To the same. 


Nothing can ever be fo dear to me as you are ; and I am fo convinc'd 
of this, that I dare undertake to love you whilft I live : Believe all I jay, 
for that is the kindeji thing imaginable, and when you can devije any way 
that may make me appear fo to you, injlruft me in it, for I need a better 
Underjlanding , than my own, to Ihew my Love without wrong to it. 


To the same. 


Now, as I love you, I think I have reafon to be Jealous-, your Neigh- 
bour came in laft Night with all the Marks and Behaviour of a Spy, every 
word and look imply’d, that Ihe came to jolicite your Love , or Conjlancy : 
May her Endeavours prove as vain as I wilh my Fears. May no Man 
fliare the Blejfings I enjoy, without my Curjes\ and if they fall on him 
alone , without touching you, I am happy , though he deferves ’em not: but 
fhou’d you be concern'd , they’ll all jlie lack upon myfelf; for he, whom 
you are kind to, is fo lie ft, he may fafely Hand the Curjes of all the World 
without repining ; at leaft if, like me, he be jenfible of nothing but what 
comes from Mrs. 

( 270 ) 


« 1 1 = 0— ===== == s- 


To the same. 


You are the moft afflicting fair Creature in the World; and however 
you wou’d perfwade me to the contrary , I cannot but believe the Fault 
you pretend to excufe, is the only one I cou’d ever be guilty of to you: 
when you think of receiving an Anfwer with common Sence in it, you muft 
write Letters that give lefs Confufion than your laft: I will wait on you, 
and be reveng'd by continuing to love you when you grow weariejl of it. 


To the same. 


Yefterday it was impofflble to Anfwer your Letter, which I hope , for 
that reafon, you will forgive me; tho’ indeed you have been pleafed to 
exprefs yourfelf fo extraordinarily , that I know not what I have to Anfwer 
to you. Give me fome reafon, upon your own account only, to be forry 
I ever had the Happinefs to know you, fince I find you repent the Kindnefs 
you fhew’d me, and undervalue the humble Service I had for you; and, 
that I might be no happier in your Favours, than you could be in my Love, 
you have contriv’d it fo well to make them equal to my Hatred; fince that 
cou’d do no more than thefe pretend — to take away the Quiet of my Life. 
I tell this, not to exempt myfelf from any Service I can do you, (for I can 
never forget how very happy I have been) but to convince you, the Love 
that gives you the Torment of Repentance on your fide, and me the Trouble 
of perceiving it in the other, is equally unjuft and cruel to us both, and 
ought therefore to die. 


To the same. 


You fhall not fail of on Saturday, and for your Wretches, as you 

call ’em, ’tis ufually my Cuftom when I wrong fuch as they, to make ’em 
amends; tho’ your Maid has aggravated that matter more to my Prejudice 
than I expe&ed from one who belong'd to you, and for your own lhare, 
if I thought you a Woman of Forms, you fhou’d receive all the Reparations 
imaginable; but it is fo unqueftionable, that I am thoroughly your Humble 
Servant, that all the World mufi: know , I cannot Offend you without being 
forry for it. 

( 271 ) 





To the same. 


Tho’ upon the Score of Love, which is immediately my Concern , I 
find aptnefs enough to be jealous-, yet upon that of your Safety , which is 
the only thing in the World weighs more with me than my Love , I appre- 
hend much more. I know, by woful Experience, what comes of dealing 
with Knaves\ fuch I am fure you have at this time to do with; therefore 
look well about you, and take it for granted, that unlefs you can deceive 
them, they will certainly cozen you. If I am not fo wife as they, and 
therefore lefs jit to advife you, I am at leaft more concern'd for you, and 
for that reafon the likelier to prove honejl, and the rather to be trufted. 
Whether you will come to the Duke' s Play-houfe to Day, or at leaft let 
me come to you when the Play is done, I leave to your Choice; let me 
know, if you pleafe, by the Bearer. 


To the same. 


I have not finn'd fo much as to dejerve to live two whole Days without 
feeing of you. From your Juftice and good Nature therefore I will prefume 
you will give me leave to wait on you at Night, and for your fake ufe not 
that Power (which you find you have abjolute over me) fo unmercifully as 
you did laft time, to divert and keep me off, from convincing you by all the 
Reafons imaginable, how necejfary ’tis to preferve you faultlefs, and make 
me happy, and alfo, that you believe and ufe me like the moft faithful of 
all your Servants, &?c. 


To the same. 


Deareft of all that ever was deareft to me, if I love any thing in the 
World like you, or wifh it in my Power to do it, may I ever be as unlucky 
and as hateful as when I faw you laft. I who have no way to exprefs my 
Kindnefs to you, but Letters , which cannot fpeak it half; whether {hall I 
think my felf more unfortunate, who cannot tell you how much I love, or 
you , who can never know how well you are belov'd\ I wou’d fain bring it 

( 272 ) 


•S ' — 1 - — ggsssa . . . g j iins j’ 

about, if it were pofftble, to wait upon you to day; for befides that I never 
am without the paffionate Defire of being with you, at this time I have 
fomething to tell you, that is for your Service, and will not be unpleafant 
News, but I am in Chains here, and mull feek out fome Device to break 
’em for a quarter of an hour. 


To the same. 


It is impoffible for me to neglefi what I love , as it wou’d be imperti- 
nent to prof efs love where I had none', but I take the Vanity to affure myfelf, 
you cannot conclude fo feverely both of my Truth and Reafon, as to fufped 
me for either of thofe Faults. If there has been a Miffortune in the Mif- 
carriage of my Letters , I befeech you not to add to it by an uncharitable 
Cenfure, but do me the right to believe the la ft thing poffible in the World, 
is the lea ft Omiflion of either Kindnefs or Service to you: I wilh the whole 
World was as intirely yours as I am, you wou’d then have no reafon to 
complain of any Body; at leaft, it wou’d be your own Fault, if they were 
not what you pleas'd. Thofe Wretches you fpeak of in your Letter, are fo 
little valuable, that you will ealily forget their Malice , and rather look upon 
the more confiderable Part of the World, who will ever find it their Intereft, 
and make it their Vanity to ferve you. And now to let you know how foon 
I propofe to be out of pain , two Days hence I leave this Place, in order to 
[pursue] my Journey towards London ; and may I then be but as happy as 
your Kindnefs can make me, I lhall have but very little room either for Envy 
or Ambition. 

O£lob. 6th. This Morning 
your Meffenger came. 


To the same. 


I Found you in a chiding Humour to Day, and fo I left you ; to Morrow 
I hope for better Luck: till when, neither You, nor any you can employ, 
lhall know whether I am under or above Ground ; therefore lie Hill, and 
fatisfie yourfelf, that you are not, nor can be half fo kind to Mrs. 

as Jam; 



( 273 ) 






To the same. 


My Faults are fuch, as, among reasonable People, will ever find Ex- 
cufe\ but to you I will make none , you are fo very full of My fiery : I believe 
you make your Court with good Succefs, at leaft I wifh it; and as the kindeft 
thing I can fay, do affure you, you {hall never be my Pattern , either in 
Good-nature or Friend flip, for I will be after my own rate, not yours, 

Tour Humble Servant , 


To the same. 


I am far from delighting in the Grief I have given you, by taking away 
the Child ; and you, who made it fo abfolutely neceffary for me to do fo, 
muft take that Excufe from me, for all the ill Nature of it: On the other 
fide, pray be affur'd, I love Betty fo well, that you need not apprehend any 
Neglett from thofe I employ, and I hope very fliortly to reftore her to you 
a finer Girl than ever. In the mean time you wou’d do well to think of 
the Advice I gave you, for how little fhew foever my Prudence makes in 
my own Affairs , in yours it will prove very fuccefsful, if you pleafe to follow 
it; and fince Difcretion is the thing alone you are like to want, pray ftudy 
to get it. 


T o the same. 


I came to Town late laft Night, tho’ time enough to receive News 
from the King very furprizing, you being chiefly concern’d in’t: I muft beg 
that I may fpeak with you this Morning, at ten a clock; I will not fail 
to be at your Door: The Affair is unhappy , and to me on many Scores, 
but on none, more than that it has diflurb'd the Heaven of Thought I was 
in, to think, after fo long an Abfence, I had liv’d, to be again bleft with 
feeing my Deareft Dear, Mrs. 

( 274 ) 


« — ■ =<£ £= 

X LI. 

To the same. 


I am forc'd at laft to own, that ’tis very uneafie to me to live fo long 
without hearing a word of you, efpecially when I reflect how ill-natur'd the 
World is to pretty Women, and what occafion you may have for their 
Service. Befides, I am unfatisfied yet, why that inconfiderable Service you 
gave me leave to do you, and which I left pofitive Orders for when I came 
away, was left unperform d; and if the Omifjion reflect upon my Servant or 
myfelf, that I might punifh the one, and clear the other. I have often 
wifh'd , I know not why, but I think for your fake more than my own, that 

Mrs. might forget me quite: but I find it would trouble me of all 

things, fhou’d {he think ill of me, or remember me to hate me\ but when- 
ever fhe wou’d make me happy, if fhe can yet wifh me fo, let her command 
fome real Service, and my Obedience will prove the belt Reward my Hopes 
can aim at. 


To the same. 


My Vifit Tefierday was intended to tell you, I had not din'd in Com- 
pany of Women , which (tho’ for a certain reafon I cou’d not very well 
exprefs with Words) was however fufficiently made appear, fince you could 
not be fo very ill-natur'd to make fevere Reflections upon me when I was 
gone. Were Men without Frailties , how wou’d you bring it about to 
make ’em love you fo blindly as they do. I cannot yet imagine what fault 
you could find in my Love-letter; certainly ’twas full of Kindnefs and Duty 
to You; and whilft thefe two Points are kept inviolable , ’tis very hard when 
you take any thing ill. I fear {laying at Home fo much gives you the Spleen 
(for I am loth to believe ’tis /;) I have therefore fent you the two Plays 
that are aCted this Afternoon; if that Diverjion cou’d put you into fo good 
a Humour, as to make you able to endure me again, I fhou’d be very much 
oblig'd to the Stage. However, if your Anger continue, {hew yourfelf at 
the Play, that I may look upon you, and go mad. Your Revenge is in your 
own Eyes ; and if I muft fuffer, I wou’d chufe that way. 

( 275 ) 



To the same. 


Tho’ not for real Kindnefs fake, at leaft to make your own Words good, 
(which is a Point of Honour proper for a Woman) endeavour to give me 
fome undeniable Proofs that you love me. If there be any in my power 
which I have yet neither given nor offer'd , you muft explain your-felf ; I am 
perhaps very dull , but withal very fincere : I cou’d wifh, for yotjr fake, 
and my own, that your Failings were fuch; but be they what thdy will, 
fince I muft love you, allow me the liberty of telling you fometinies un- 
manerly Truths, when my Zeal for your Service caufes, and your own 
Intereft requires it: Thefe Inconveniences you muft bear with from thofe 
that love you, with greater regard to you than themf elves \ fuch a One I 
pretend to be, and I hope if you do not yet believe it, you will in time find it. 

You have faid fomething that has made me fancy to Morrow will prove 
a happy Day to me; however, pray let me fee you before you fpeak with 
any other Man, there are Reafons for it, Deareft of all my Defires. I expedt 
your Commands. \ 

An Hour after 

I left You. 


To the same. 

Madam, • 

I have a very juft parrel to Bufinefs, upon a thoufand Faults, and 
will now continue it, whilft I live, fince it takes from me fome hours of your 
Company . Till two in the Afternoon I cannot come to you; pity my ill 
Fortune, and fend me word where I fhall then find you. 


To the same. 


I was juft beginning to write you word, that I am the moft unlubky 
Creature in the World, when your Letter came in, and made me mdre 
certain; for you tempt me by defiring me to do the thing upon Earth I haYe 
the moft Fondnefs of, at this time; that is, going with you to Windfort but 

( 276 ) 


• g == ■■""" 1 — — "" ji — 

the Devi! has laid a Block in my way, and I muft not, for my life , ftir out 
of Town thefe ten Days. You will fcarce believe me in this particular, as 
you fhou’d do, but I will convince you of the Truth, when I wait on you; 
in the mean time (to ftiew the Reality of my Intentions) there is a Coach 
ready hired for to Morrow, which, if not true, you may difprove me by 
making ufe of it. 


To the same. 


Believe me, {Dear eft of all R leaf ares') that thofe I can receive from any 
thing but you, are fo extreamly dull they hardly deferve the name. If you 
diftruft me, and all my Profeffions, upon the Score of Truth and Honour , 
at leaft let ’em have Credit on another, upon which my greateft Enemies 
will not deny it me; and that is, its being notorious that I mind nothing but 
my own Satisfaction. You may be fure I cannot chufe but love you above 
the World , whatever becomes of the King , Court, or Mankind , and all their 
impertinent Bufinefs. I will come to you this Afternoon. 


To the same. 


That I do not fee you, is not that I wou’d not , for that, the Devil take 
me, if I would not do every day of my life, but for thefe Reafons you fhall 
know hereafter. In the mean time, I can give you no Account of your 
Bufinefs as yet; but of my own part, which I am fure will not be agreeable 
without others, who, I am confident will give full Satisfaction, in a very 
fhort time, to all your Defires : When ’tis done, I will tell you fomething 
that, perhaps, may make you think that I am, Mrs. 

Sunday. Your Humble Servant, 


To the same. 


Till I have mended my Manners, I am afham'd to look you in the 
Face; but feeing you is as neceffary to my life, as breathing ; fo that I muft 
fee you, or be your’s no more ; for that’s the Image I have of Dying. The 

( 277 ) 


»<t. . . .sssssssss.: gs= ^3? gg1 " 1 " ' sssssssssss 1 : =S - 

light of you, then, being my life, I cannot but confefs, with an humble 
and lincere Repentance, that I have hitherto liv’d very ill; receive my 
Confejjion , and let the Promife of my future Zeal and Devotion obtain my 
P ardon, for laft Night’s Blafphemy againft you, my Heaven ; fo lhall I hope , 
hereafter, to be made Partaker of fuch Joys, in your Arms , as meeting 
Tongues but faintly can exprefs. Amen. 


To the same. 


I allure you I am not half fo faulty as unfortunate in ferving you; I 
will not tell you my Endeavours , nor excufe my Breach of Promife ; but 
leave it to you to find the caufe of my doing fo ill, to one I wilh fo well to; 
but I hope to give you a better Account Ihortly. The Complaint you fpoke 
to me, concerning Mifs, I know nothing of, for Ihe is as great a Stranger 
to me, as Ihe can be to you. So, thou pretty Creature, Farewel ; 

Tour Humble Servant, 


To the same . 


Your Letter fo transports me, that I know not how to anfwer it, the 
ExpreJJions are fo foft, and feem to be fo fincere, that I were the unreaf on- 
able ft Creature on Earth, cou’d I but feem to dijlruft my being the happier : 
and the befl Contrivance , I can think of, for conveying a Letter to me, is 
making a Porter bring it my Foot-man , where-ever I am, whether at St. 
James's, Whitehal , or home. They are at prefent pulling down fome part 
of my Lodging, which will not permit me to fee you there ; but I will wait 
on you at any other place, what time you pleafe . 



To the same. 

Might I be fo happy to receive fuch Proofs of your Kindnefs, as I my 
felf would chufe, one of the greateft, I could think of, were, That all my 
Actions, however they appear'd at firft, might be interpreted as meant for 

' ( 278 ) 


BB ===g S ^= — 

your Service; fince nothing is fo agreeable to my Nature, as feeking my own 
Satisfa&ion; and lince you are the heft Object of that I can find in the 
World, how can you entertain a Jealoufie, or Fear ? You have the ftrongeft 
Security, our frail and daily-changing Frame can give. That I can live to 
no End fo much, as that of P leafing and Serving you. 


To the same. 


I cou’d Jay a great deal to you, but will conceal it till I have merit : 
fo theje fhall be only to beg your Pardon , for defiring your Excufe till 
Munday , and then you fhall find me an hone ft Man, and one of my Word. 
So Mrs. 

Tour Servant , 


To the same. 

Dear Madam, 

My omitting to write to you all this while, were an unpardonable 
Errour, had I been guilty of it thro’ Negleft towards you, which I value 
you too much ever to be capable of. But I have never been two days in 

a place, fince Mrs. went away; which I ought to have given you 

Notice of, and have let you known, that her Crime was, making her Court 

to with Stories of you; entertaining her continually with the Shame 

fhe underwent to be feen in company of fo horrid a Body as yourfelf, in 

order to the obtaining of her ’s Employment ; and laftly, that my 

was ten times prettier than that nafty B , I was fo fond of at London , 

which I had by you. This was the grateful Acknowledgment fhe made you 
for all your Favours , and this Recompence for all the little Services , which, 
upon your account , fhe receiv’d from, 

Tour Humble Servant , &c. 


To the same. 


Anger , Spleen , Revenge , and Shame , are not yet fo powerful with me, 
as to make me difown this great Truths That I love you above all things in 

( 279 ) 


S3? " — = s * 

the World: but, I thank God, I can diftinguifh, I can fee very W oman in 
you, and from yourfelf am convinc’d I have never been in the wrong in 
my Opinion of Women: ’Tis impoffible for me to curjs you; but give me 
leave to pity myfelf, which is more than ever you will do for me. You have 
a Character, and you maintain it; but I am forry you make me an Example 
to prove it: It feems (as you excel in every thing) you fcorn to grow lefts 
in that noble Quality of Ufing your Servants very hardly ; you do well not 
to forget it; and rather practice upon me, than lofe the Habit of being very 
Severe ; for you that chufe rather to be Wife than Juft or Good-natur'd , may 
freely difpofe of all things in your power, without regard to one or the other. 
As I admire you, I wou’d be glad I cou’d immitate you; it were but 
manners to endeavour it ; which, fince I am not able to perform, I confefs 
you are in the right to call that rude which I call kind ; and fo keep me in 
the wrong for ever (which you cannot chufe but take great delight in :) 
You need but continue to make it fit for me not to love you, and you can 
never want fomething to upbraid me with. 

Three a Clock in the 





From the coaft of Norway amongft the 
rocks aboard the Revenge. 

Auguft the yd. [1665] 

Mad dm, 

I hope it will not bee hard for your La sp to believe that it hath been 
want of opportunity and noe negledt in mee the not writing to your La sp 
all the while. I know noe body hath more reafon to exprefs theire duty 
to you than I have, and certainely Savill [would] never bee foe imprudent 
as to omitt the occafions of doing it. There have many things paft lince 
I writt laft to your La sp . We had many reports of De Ruyter and Eaft- 
india fleete but none true till towards the 2nd of the laft month wee had 
certaine intelligence then of 30 faile in Bergen in Norway, a haven belong- 
ing to the King of Denmarke. But the port was found to be fo little that 
it was impoffible for the greate fhips to gett in, foe that my Lord Sandwich 

( 280 ) 


■ — = s S ?= ■ » 

rdered 20 faile of fourth and fifth rate friggatte to goe in and take them, 
"hey were commanded by Sir Thomas Teddeman one of the Vice 
Admirals. It was not fitt for mee to fee any occafion of fervice to the 
[ing without offering my felf, fo I defxred and obtained leave of my 
£ Sandwich to goe with them and accordingly the thirtieth of this month 
ree fett faile at fix a clock at night and the next day wee made the haven 
iruchfort (on this fide of the toune 1 5 leagues) not without much hazard 
f fhipwreck, for (befides the danger of Rocke w cb according to the feamens 
ldgement was greater than ever was fcene by any of them) wee found 
le harbour where twenty fhipps were to anchor, not bigg enough for 
;ven, foe that in a moment wee were all together one upon another and 
;ady to dafh in pieces having nothing but fome rocks to fave our felves, 
l cafe we had binn loft; but it was God’s greate mercy wee gott cleare 
tid only that for wee had noe humane probability of fafety; there we lay 
1 night and by twelve a clock next day gott off and failed to Bergen full 
f hopes and expectation, having allready fhared amongft us the rich lading 
f the Eaft India merchants, fome for diamond(s) fome for fpices others 
>r rich filkes and I for fhirts and gould w oh I had moft neede of; but 
xkoning without our hoaft wee were faine to reckon twice. However 
ee had immediately a meffage from the Governor full of civility and offers 
• fervice, w 011 was returned by us, Mr Mountegue being the melfenger ; that 
ight wee [had] 7 or ten more w ch fignified nothing, but were empty delayes. 

: grew darke and wee were faine to ly ftill untill morning. All the night 
te Dutch carried above 200 pieces of cannon into the Danifh caftells and 
irts, and wee were by morne drawn into a very faire halfe moone ready 
' r both towne and fhips. Wee received feverall meflages from breake of 
iy untill fower of clock much like thofe of the over night, intending 
idling but delay that they myght fortifie themfelves the more ; w ch being 
:rceived wee delayed noe more but juft upon the ftroke of five wee lett 
re our fighting coulours and immediately fired upon the fhipps, who 
ifwered us immediately and were feconded by the caftles and forts of the 
wne, upon w ch wee fhott at all and in a fhort time beat from one oftheire 
■eateft forts fome three or fouer thoufand men that were placed w th fmall 
ott upon us; but the caftles were not to bee [taken] for befides the 
•ength of theire walls they had foe many of the Dutch Gunns (w 01 theire. 
vne) w° h played in the hulls and deckes of our fhipps, that in 3 howers 
ne we loft fome 200 men and fix captaines, our cables were cut, and wee 
“re driven out by the winde, w ch was foe directly againft us that wee 
'Uld not ufe our firefhips w ch otherwife had infallybly done our bufinefs; 
e wee came off having beate the towne all to peices without lofing one 
ipp. Wee now lie off a little ftill expecting a wind that wee may fend 
jfirefhips to make an end of the reft. Mr Mountegue and Thorn 5 
'indhams brother were both killed with one fhott juft by mee, but God 

( 281 ) 


•» — ■■ ■ 1 & _ »• 

Almyghty was pleafed to preferve mee from any kind of hurt. Madam 

I have bin tedious but begg your La sps pardon who am 

Your moft obedient son 


I have been as good a husband as I could, but in fpight of my wifli 
have binn faine to borrow mony. 



From our Tubb att Mrs Fourcards this 18th of October [1669]. 

Wife, Our gutt has allready been griped, and wee are now in bed, soe that 
wee are not in a condition of writing either according to thy merritt or our 
defert. Wee therefore doe command thy benigne acceptance of thefe our 
letters in what way foever by us infcribed or directed, willing thee there- 
withal to allure our foie daughter and heire iffue female, ye Lady Anne 
[part] of our beft refpefts; this, with your care and dilligence on the 
ereftion of our furnaces, is att prefent the utmoft of our will and pleafure — 


To the same. 

[May, 1668] 

You know not how much I am pleafed when I heare from you, if you 
did you would bee foe obliging to write oftner to mee, I doe ferioufly w th 
all my heart wilh my felfe w th you, and am endeavouring every day to get 
away from this place which I am foe weary of, that I may be faid rather 
to languifh than live in it; my Lady Warr intends to honour you with a 
vifit on Monday fennight (flie faies) in the meane time pray behave y r 
felfe well, and let me heare of noe mifcarriages. If I doe, my partiallyty 
to you will make mee apt to lay them to y r maide Joane, as I have before, 
rather than to you. Here is noe newes but that the Duchefs of Rich: will 
loofe an eye, the Dutchefs of Mon : has put out her thigh, my L d Hawbey 
is to bee married to my Lady Munnings, hee drinks puppy dog water to 
make himfelfe handfome, but fhee they fay having heard hee had a clapp, 
has refufed to enter into conjugall bonds till Ihee bee better affur’d of his 

Remember me to Mrs Baxter. 

( 282 ) 


« — Cfifr - " 1 '■ ■ '' 


To the same. 

For the Countejs of Rochefler. 

I fhould bee infinitely pleafed (Madam) with the newes of your health 
hitherto I have not been fo fortunate to heare any of you but allure y r felfe 
my wilhes are of your fide as much as is polfible and pray only that they 
may bee effe&uall; and you will not want for happinefs. 

Paris the 22 of Aprill. [1669] 

French ftile. 


To the same. 

Pray do not take it ill that I write to you feldom fince my coming to 
Town; my being in waiting upon the fad Accident of Madame’s Death 
(for which the King endures the higheft affliction imaginable) would not 
allow me Time or Power to write Letters: You have heard the Thing, but 
the Barbaroufnefs of the Manner you may guefs at by the Relation. 

Monfieur, fince the Banilhment of the Chevalier de Lorrain (of which 
he fufpeCted Madame to have been the Author) has ever behaved himfelf 
very ill to her in all things, threatening her upon all occafions, that if fhe 
did not get Lorrain recalled, fhe might expert from him the worft that 
could befal her. It was not now in her Power to perform what he ex- 
pected; fo that file returning to Paris, he accidentally carries her away to 
St. Cloud, where having remained fifeteen Days in good Health, Ihe having 
been bathing one Morning, and finding herfelf very dry called for fome 
Succory-Water, (a Cordial Julip fhe ufually took upon thefe occafions) and 
being then very merry, difcufling with fome of her Ladies, that were with 
her, fhe had no fooner fwallowed this Succory-Water, but immediately 
falling into Madame de Chatillon’s Arms, fhe cried, fhe was Dead, and 
fending for her Confeffor after Eight Hours infinite Torment in her 
Stomach and Bowels, fhe died the moft lamented (both in France and 
England) fince Dying has been the fafhion. But I will not keep you too 
long upon this doleful Alteration ; it is enough to make moft Wives in the 
World very Melancholy. 

But I thank you for my cheefes, my fugar of rofes and all my good things, 
pray lett it not bee neceffary for mee to put you too often in mind of what 
you ought not to bee lefs forward in doing than I in advifing. I hope you 

( 283 ) 

! 2 > 


jgg — 

will give mee noe occafion to explaine my felfe, for if I am putt upon that 
you will find mee very troublefome. I receiv’d noe letter from you with 
an inclos’d to your mother nor doe I beleive you writ any, befides I finde 
by another circumftance that the returnes of letters betwixt London and 
Adderbury are very tedious. 

If you write to me, you muft direft to Lincoln’s-Inn-Fields, the 
Houfe next to the Duke’s Play-Houfe in Portugal Row; there lives 

Your humble Servant, 


I writ a letter to the ranger. I fliould faine know if hee received it and 
whither I am like to receive an anfwer or noe, pray fend mee fome ale, 
and rember mee to Nan; fliee has a prefent for her godaughter but I doe 
not know what it is, fend mee word and if it bee not as it fliould be, I’le 
fend another favour. 


To the same. 

I am forry, madame, to heare that you are not well, and as much 
troubled that you fliould believe I have not writt to you all this while. 
I, who am not ufed to flatter, doe allure you that, if two letters from mee 
came not to your hands this laft weeke, and that before, they have mif- 
carried. Nothing is foe much my bufinefs now, as to make haft to waite 
on you. I think, in that, I comply with your commands, as I doe with 
the hearty inclination of 

Your humble fervant, 



To the same. 

I am very glad to heare news from you and I thinke it very good when 
I heare you are well, pray bee pleas’d to fend mee word what you are apt 
to bee pleas’d with that I may Ihow you how good a husband I can' bee. 
I would not have you foe fmall as to Judge of the kindnefs of a letter by 
the length of it but beleive of every thing that it is as you would have it. 

( 284 ) 

* g 


====<£&=== = 


To the same. 

( Thefe for the C. of Rf 

The alteration of my mothers former refolutions (who is now refolv’d 
againft ever moving from hence) puts mee upon fome thoughts w 011 were 
allmoft quite out of my head; but you may bee fure I ihall determine 
nothing that does not tend as much to your reall happinefs as lies in my 
power. I have therefore fent you this letter to prepare you for a remove 
firft hither, and afterwards as fate ihall direct which is (I find) the true 
difpofer of things whatever wee attribute to wifdome or providence. Bee 
therefore in a readinefs upon the firft notice from mee to put that in 
execution w eh I ihall firft informe you particularly of— let me have an 
anfwer and difpatch this meffenger quickly. 

God blefs you. 




To the same. 

I have no News for you, but that London grows very tirefome, and I 
long to fee you; but things are now reduced to that Extremity on all Sides, 
that, a Man dares not turn his Back for fear of being Hanged: An ill 
Accident to be avoided by all prudent Perfons, and therefore by 

Your humble Servant, 



To the same. 

For the Countefs of Rochefter att Adderbury neare Banbury, Oxford- 
ihire. Put it in the Banbury bagg. 

If you heare not from mee it is not that I either want time or will to 
write to you, I am fufficiently at leafure and thinke very often of you, but 
you could expecft an account of w st has befall’n mee, w ch is not yett fitt 
for you to know; only thus much I will tell you, it was all in vindication 
of you; I am now at Batterfy and have binn this weeke here, wounder not 
if you receive few letters from mee, and bee fatisfied w th this that I thinke 
continually of you and am your 


( 285 ) 

To the same. 

Wonder not that I have not writt to you all this while for it was hard 
for mee to know what to write, upon feverall accounts, but in this I will 
only defire you not to bee too much amaz’d at the thoughts my mother 
has of you, fince being meer immaginations they will as eafily vanifh as 
they were groundleflly created. For my owne part I will make it my 
endeavour they may. What you defired of mee in your other letter fhall 
punctually bee perform’d; you mult, I think, obey my mother in her com- 
mands to waite on her at Alesbury as I told you in my laft letter. I am 
very dull at this time and therefore thinke pitty in this humour to teftify 
my felfe to you any farther; only dear wife 

I am your humble Servant, 



To the same. 

We have order’d the matter foe well that you muft of neceflity bee att 
the place you intend before I can give you an anfwer to y r Letter, yett 
mee thinks you ought rather to have refolv’d in the negative fince it was 
w ht I defired of you before; but the happy conjunction of my mother and 
you can produce nothing but extreme good carriage to mee as it has for- 
merly done; you fhew y r felfe very difcreet and kind in thefe and in other 
matters. I wifh you very well, and my mother, but allure you, I will bee 
very backward in giving you the trouble of 

Your humble Servant, 



To the same. 

It is now fome weekes fince I writt you word that there was money 
return’d out of Somerts for y r ufe, w ch I defir’d you to fend for by what 
fummes your felf pleas’d. By this time I beleive I have fpent it half; 
however you muft be fupplied if you thinke fitt to order itt; Ihortly I 

( 286 ) 


1 &= = > 

intend to give you the trouble of a vifitt, ’tis all I have to begg y r pardon 
for att prefent, unlefs you take itt for a fault that I ftill pretend to be 

Y r humble Servant, 


I doe not know if my mother bee att [Alesbury] or Adderbury; if 
at home prefent my duty to her. 


To the same. 

I will bee with you fhortly, and if my mother pleafes, I will take the 
trouble of you and yours upon mee, and thinke my felfe a very happy man, 
in the mean time, have but foe much difcretion to diflemble a little and I 
will deliver you immediately: money you fhall have as foon as ever I come 
to you. 


To the same. 


It was the height of complyance forc’d mee to agree y r La sp fhould 
come into Oxfordshire, if it does not pleafe you ’tis not my fault, though 
much my expe (Station. I receive the compliment you make in defiring my 
company as I ought to doe. But I have a poore living to get that I ma y 
bee lefs burdenfome to yr La sp : if yr La sp had return’d money out of 
[Somer st ] for the buying thefe things you fent for they myght have binn 
had by this time. But the little I gett here will very hardly ferve my owne 
turne; however I muft tell you that ’twas Blancourt’s fault you had nott 
Holland and other things fent you a fortnight ago. Next weeke I goe into 
the weft and att my returne fhall have the happinefs of waiting on y r La sp . 

I could fcarce guefs what meafures you would take upon the letter I 
fent you, and therfore have fent this fecond epiftle together w tb my coach, 
humbly requefting you to doe therein as in your wifdome fhall feeme meete, 
I being w th great advifednefs moft excellently your humble fervant 


My humble duty to mother and my fervice to my Cozens. 

( 287 ) 


« ' 11 5Sl" — » 

LXX [Incomplete]. 

To the same. 

foe greate a difproportion t’wixt our defires and what is ordained 

to content them ; but you will fay this is pride and madnefs, for theire are 
thofe foe intirely fatisfyed with theire fhares in this world that theire wifhes 
nor theire thoughts have not a farther profpedf of felicity and glory. I’le 
tell you, were that mans foule plac’t in a body fitt for it, hee were a dogg, 
that could count any thing a benefit obtain’d w th flattery, feare and fervice. 

Is there a man yee gods whome I doe hate ? — 

Dependance and Attendance bee his fate. 

Lett him bee bufy Hill and in a crowde 
And very much a flave and very proude. 

Remember me to my deareft Aunt and my good Unkle; I would not 
have you lofe my letter; it is not fitt for every body to finde. 

Y e wine was bought laft weeke but neglefbed to bee fent. 


(Seal thefe for the Countefs of Rochefter at Adderbury neare Banbury, 
Oxfordfhire.) 7 


To the same . 

To my Wife , 

Runn away like a rafcall without taking leave, deare wife — it is an 
unpolilht way of proceeding w ch a modefl: man ought to bee afham’d of. 
I have left you a prey to your owne immaginations amongft my relations. 
The worft of damnations; but there will come an houer of deliverance; 
till when may my mother bee mercifull unto you; foe I co mmi tt you to 
what fliall enfue, woman to woman, wife to mother, in hopes of a future 
appearance in glory; the fmall fhare I can fpare you out of my packett 
I have fent as a debt to Mrs Roufe. ’Within a weeke or ten days I will 
returne you more; pray write as often as you have leifure to. 



Remember me to Nan, and my L a Willmott. 

You mufi: prefent my fervice to my coufins. I intend to bee at the 
deflowring of my niece Ellen if I heare of it. Excufe my ill paper and 
my ill manners to my mother ; they are both the beft the place and age 
will afford r s 

( 288 ) 



■■■■ ■ ■<£ &== 



To the same. 


I am extreamly troubled for the ficknefs of f fon as well in con- 
lideration of the affliction it gives you, as the dearnefs I have for him my- 
felf; you have I heare done mee the favour to expeff mee long in the 
Country where I intended to have bin long agoe, but Court affaires are 
more hardly follicited now than ever, and having follow’d them till I had ’ 
fpent all my owne money and y rs too, I was forc’t to ftay fomething longer 
here till I had contriv’d a fupply, w 011 being now difpatch’d I have nothing 
to hinder mee from what I heartily defire w el1 is to waite on y r La sp att 

I am your humble Servant, 



To the same. 

It were very unreafonable lhould I not love you, whilft I believe you a 
deferving good creature. I am allready foe weary of this place, that, upon 
my word, I could bee content to pafs my winter at Cannington, though I 
apprehend the tedioufnefs of it for you. Pray fend me word what lyes in 
my power to doe for your fervice and eafe, here or wherever elfe you can 
employ mee; and affure yourfelfe I will negleft your concerne no more 
than forgett my own. ’Twas very well for your fon, as ill as you tooke it, 
that I fent him to Adderbury, for it proves at leaft to be the King’s evill 
that troubles him; and hee comes up to London this weeke to bee touch’ t. 
My humble fervice to my aunt Rogers, and Nan. 

I write in bed, and am affraid you can’t reade it. 


To the same. 

I have, my dear Wife, fent you fome Lamb, about an Ounce; I have 
fent to my Mother one Weftphalia-Ham, one Jole of Sturgeon; and on 
Chriftmas Day I will fend her a very fat Doe. I fear I muff fee London 
u ( 289 ) 


T" ■■ 1 SSi ' * 

flhortly, and begin to Repent that I did not bring you with me; for fince 
thefe Rake-hells are not here to difturb us, you might have paffed your 
Devotions this Holy Seafon, as well in this Place, as at Adderbury. But, 
dear Wife, one of my Coach-Horfes is dying, or I had fent my Coach 
inftead of my Complement. 

Yours, etc: 



To the same. 

I kifs my deare wife a thoufand times, as much as imagination and 
wifli will give mee leave. Think upon mee as long as it is pleafant and 
convenient to you to doe foe and afterwards forgett me; for though I 
would faine make you the author and foundation of my happinefs yet 
wou’d I not bee the caufe of your conftraint and difturbance for I love 
not my felfe as much as I doe you; neither doe I value my owne fatis- 
faftion equally as I do yours. 




To the same. 


I’le hould you fix to fouer I love you w th all my heart, if I would bett 
w th other people I’me fure I could gett two to one, but becaufe my paflion 
is not foe extenfive to reach to every body, I am not in paine to fatisfye 
many, it will content mee if you believe mee and love mee. 


To the same. 

’Tis not an eafy thing to be intirely happy, but to be kind is very eafy, 
and that is the greateft Meafure of Happinefs. I fay not this to put you 
inJMind of being kind to me; you have praftifed that fo long, that I have 
a joyful Confidence you will never forget it; but to fliew that I my felf 

( 290 ) 


have a Senfe of what the Methods of my Life feem fo utterly to contradidh 
I muft not be too wife about my own Follies, or elfe this Letter had been 
a book dedicated to you, and publifhed to the World: It will be more 
pertinent to tell you, that very mortly the King goes to New-Market, and 
then I flxall wait on you at Adderbury: In the mean time, think of any 
thing you would have me do, and I fhall thank you for the Occafion of 
pleafing you. . . . 


Prefent my fervice to Mrs. H. Mr. Morgan I have fent in this errant 
Becaufe hee playes the roghe here in towne foe extreamly, that hee is not 
to bee endur’d, pray if he behave himfelf foe att Adderbury fend mee word 
and lett him ftay till I fend for him; pray lett Ned come up to towne, 
I have a little buifnefs with him and he fhall bee Back in a weeke. 


To the same. 

The ftile of y r La sps Lafl though kinder than I deferve is not without 
fome alloy from y r late converfations w tb thofe whom I fhould extreamly 
honour, if they would doe mee the right and you the vertue never to come 
neare you when I am really as well w t& you as I wilh, you pretend I fhall 
at leaft obtaine that favour; in the meane time I will exercife my ufuall 
tallent of patience and fubmiffion; I would bee very glad to imploy my 
felf in thofe affaires you have to bee done here, had I the leaft hopes of 
doing them to y r fatisfadtion, — but defpairing of that happinefs pray fend 
y r Cofin and my freind to towne and lett her pleafe you better. I know 
nott who has perfuaded you that you want five pounds to pay the Servants 
wages, but next weeke Blancourt is going into the weft, at whofe returne 
you may expedl an Account of y r entire revenue, w 0 * 1 I will bee bound to 
fay has hithertoo, and fhall (as long as I can gett bread without itt) bee 
wholly imploy’d to the ufe of y r felf and thofe who depend on you; if I 
prouve an ill Steward att leaft you never had a better, w ch is fome kind 
of fatisfadlion to 

Tour humble Servant. 

( 29 1 ) 

To the same. 

For the Countefs of Rochefter att Adderbury neare Banbury, 

Oxford fhire. 

Since my coming to towne, my head has bin perpetually turn’d round, 
but I doe nott find itt makes me giddy; this is all the witt you fliall receive 
in my firft letter; here after you may expect more, God willing; pray bid 
John Tredway purchafe my Oates, as foone as poflible, and what ever Coale 
you order I fliall returne money for upon notice; ready Calh I have but 
little, ’tis hard to come by but when Mr Cary comes doune hee fliall 
furnilh [you] Coales w tb as much as I can procure ; when you have more 
commands I am ready to receive ’em being moft extreamly 

Your humble fervant, 


Pray bidd my daughter Betty prefent my duty to my daughter Mallett. 


To the same. 

Wood and firing, w eb were the fubjeft matter of y r Laft, I tooke order 
for before, and make no queftion but you are ferv’d in y r affaire before 
this, Mr Cary feldome fayling in any thing hee undertakes. When you have 
other fervice for mee you will informe mee of itt and nott doubt of the 
utmoft obfervance from 

Y r humble, 



To the same. 


Deare Wife, 

I have difpatch’t y r meflenger away to night to fave you the trouble 
of riling early, hoping you have noe concerne to communicate to mee of 
y r owne. The D. of B. came hither to-night and flays two dayes ; I muft 
lend him my coach half way back therefore pray fend it me; my condition 
of health alters, I hope for the better, though various accidents fucceed. 
My paines are prity well over, and my Rheumatifms begins to turne to an 

( 292 ) 


* <£ — t - 

honeft gout, my pifGng of blood Doctor Whetherly fays is nothing. My 
eyes are almoft out but that hee fays will not doe mee much Harme, in 
fhort hee makes mee eate flefli and drinke dyett-drink. God blefs you. 
My duty to my mother and thanke her for my cordials. 


To the same. 


Dear Wife, 

I recover foe flowly and relaps foe continually that I am allmoft weary 
of my felf. If I had the leaft ftrength I would come to Adderbury, but 
in the condition I am, Kenlington and back is a voyage I can hardly 
fupport; I hope you excufe my fending you noe money, for till I am well 
enough to fetch it my felf they will not give me a farthing, and if I had 
not pawn’d my plate I believe I muft have ftarv’d in my ficknefs. Well 
God blefs you and the children whate’er becomes of 

Y r humble Servant, 


If Mrs Catford be gone pray enclofe this letter w tb the firft you fend. 


To the same. 


I received three piftures, and am in a great fright left they fhould 
be like you. By the bignefs of the head, I Ihould apprehend you far gone 
in the rickets: by the feverity of the countenance, fomewhat inclined to 
prayer and prophecy: yet there is an alacrity in your plump cheeks that 
feems to fignify fack and fugar; and your ftiarp-fighted nofe has borrowed 
quicknefs from the fweet fmelling eye. I never faw a chin fmile before, 
a mouth frown, or a forehead mump. Truly the artift has done his part 
(God keep him humble) and a fine man he is if his excellencies don’t puff 
him up like his pi&ures. The next impertinence I have to tell you is that 
I am coming into the country; I have got horfes, but want a coach : when 
that defied is fupplied, you fhall quickly have the trouble of 

Your humble Servant, 


P.S. Prefent my duty to my Lady and my humble fervice to my After, 
my brother, and all the babyes not forgetting Madam Jane. 

( 293 ) 

To the same. 

You are very kind to wifh mee in the country perhaps that is beft for 
mee, and I wifh I had rather bin in this towne a month agoe than at this 
time and certainly w bn I am in any tollerable health I fhall wayte upon you. 


To the same. 

The difficulties of plealing y r La sp doe encreafe foe faft upon mee, and 
are growne foe numerous that to a man lefs refolv’d than my felf never to 
give itt over, itt would appeare a madnefs ever to Attempt itt more, but 
through your frailtys myne ought not to multiply; you may therefore 
fecure y r felf that it will not bee eafy for you to put mee off my conftant 
refolutions to fatiffy you in all I can ; I confefs there is nothing will foe 
much contribute to my affiftance in this as y r dealing freely w th mee, for 
fince you have thought itt a wife thing to truft mee lefs and have referves, 
itt has bin out of my pow’r to make the beft of my proceedings effectual 
to what I intended them ; at a diftance I am likelieft to learn y r mind for 
you have not a very oblidging way of delivering itt by word of Mouth ; 
if therfore you will let mee know the perticulars in which I may be ufefull 
to you, I will fliow my readinefs as to my owne part, and if I fade at the 
fuccefs I wifh, itt fhall not bee the fault of 

Your humble Servant, 


I intend to bee att Adderbury fome time next weeke. 


To the same. 

My moft negle&ed wife, till you are a much refpe&ed Widdow, I find 
you will fcarce be a contented Woman, and to fay noe more than the 
plaine truth I doe endeavour foe fairly to doe you that laft good fervice 
that none but the moft impatient would refufe to reft fatisfied. What evill 
Angell Enimy to my repofe does infpire my Lady Warr to vifitt you once 

( 294 ) 


« = = &= = * 

a yeare and leave you bewitch’d for elev’n months after? I thanke my 
God that I have the Torment of the Stone upon mee (w cl1 are noe fmall 
ones) rather than that unfpeakable one of being an eye witnefs to y r un- 
eafinefs : Doe but propofe to mee any reafonable thing upon Earth I can 
do to fett you att quiett but it is like a madd woman to lye roaring out of 
paine and never confefs in what part it is; thefe three yeares have I heard 
you continually complain, nor has itt ever bin in my pow’r to obtain the 
knowledge of any confiderable caufe ; confident I fliall nott have the like 
affii&ion three yeares hence, but that repofe .... (I owe) to a furer friend 
than you; when the time comes you will grow Wifer, though I feare nott 
much happyer. 


To the same. 

I cannot deny to you but that Heroick refolutions in women are things 
of the w ch I have never bin tranfported w th greate admiration; nor can 
bee if my Life lay on’t, for I thinke it is a very impertinent virtue; befides 
confider how men and women are compounded that as heate and cold, 
fo greatnefs and meanefs are neceffary ingredients that enter both into the 
making up of every one that is borne, (now when heate is predominant we 
are termed hott, when cold is wee are call’d cold; though in the mixture 
both take theire places etc. our warmeth would bee a burning, and our 
cold an exceffive freezing), fo greatenefs and virtue that Sparke of primi- 
tive grace is in every one alive, and likewife meanefs or vice that feede of 
originall Sin is (in a meafure alfoe): for if either of them were totally 
abfent, men and woemen muft bee perfect Angells, or abfolute divills. Now 
from the preheminence of either of thefe quallityes in us wee are termed 
good or bad: but yett as contrarietyes though they both refide in one body 
muft they ever bee oppofite in place, thence I inferr that as heate in the 
feete makes cold in the head, foe may it bee w m probabilyty expected too, 
that greatnefs and meanefs fhould bee as oppofitely feated and [that] a 
Heroick head is liker to bee balanc’d w ltl an humble taile. Befides reafon, 
Experience has furnifh’d mee with many examples of this kinde, my Lady 
Mortennell Villers, and twenty others, whofe honour was ever foe excef- 
five in theire heads that they fuffered a want of it in everey other part; thus 
it comes about madam that I have noe verey greate eftime for a high 
fpirited Lady and therefore fhould bee glad that none of my friends thought 
it convenient to adorne theire other perfections with that moft trancendent 
Accomplifhment; it is tollerable only in a waiting gentlewoman who to 
prove her felfe lawfully decended from St Humphry, her greate Uncle, 

( 295 ) 


< ' —35 ' . . . — T 

is allowed the affectation of a high Spiritt, and a naturall inclination towards 
a gentile convers: This now is a letter and to make it a kinde one I mult 
allure you of all the dotage in the World, and then to make it a civill one, 
downe att the bottome w th a greate fpace between I muft write 


I have too much refpeCt for you to come neare you whilft I am in difgrace 
but when I am a favourite againe I will waite on you. 

Your moft humble Servant, 



To his Son. 

I Hope, Charles, when you receive this, and know that I have fent this 
Gentleman to be your Tutor, you will be very glad to fee I take fuch care 
of you, and be very grateful; which is belt fliown in being Obedient and 
Diligent. You are now grown big enough to be a Man, if you can be wife 
enough; and the Way to be truly wife, is, to ferve God, learn your Book, 
and obferve the InftruCtions of your Parents firft, and next your Tutor, 
according as you employ that Time, you are to be Happy or Unhappy for 
ever: But I have fo good an Opinion of you, that I am glad to think, you 
will never deceive me. Dear Child, learn your Book, and be Obedient, 
and you fhall fee what a Father I will be to you; you lhall want no Pleafure 
while you are good: And that you may be fo, are my conftant Prayers, 



To the same. 

Charles, I take it very kindly that you write to me (tho’ feldom) and 
wifli heartily you would behave yourfelf fo, as that I might fhow how much 
I love you without being alhamed. Obedience to your Grandmother, and 
thofe who inftrud you in good Things, is the way to make you happy 
here, and for ever. Avoid Idlenefs, fcorn Lying, and God will blefs you: 
For which I pray, 


( 29 6) 






To Sir John Warre. 

I was forct by the news of my wives being not well to poll out of towne 
before I could have the opportunity of waiting on you, w° h I confefs was 
a fault I Ihould not otherwife have bin guilty of; and I therefore purpofe 
at the beginning of the next weeke to returne that I may receive y r pardon, 
and put you in minde of performing your promife, and fhow you the way 
hither where upon my word is one very much tranfported w th the thoughts 
of being foe happy as to fee you and for my owne part I begg you to beleive 
that noe man does more heartily delire any good in this world than I doe 
the honour of your freindfhipp and kindnes nor can any one have a greater 
value and fervice for you than has 

Your humble Servant, 




To Lord Lichfield. 

My Dear Lord , 

I would not have flipt this Opportunity of waiting upon you; but 
the Change of the Weather makes it a dangerous Journey for a Man in 
no better Health than I am: neither would you condemn the Care I take 
of myfelf, did you know how kind an Uncle, and how faithful a Servant 
I preferve for you. The Chara filer you have of me from others, may give 
you fome reafon to conlider this no farther than good Nature obliges you : 
But if I am ever fo happy to live, where my Inclinations to you may fhew 
themfelves; be allured, you Jliall not want very good Proof, how much 
the Memory of your Father, the Favours of my Lady Lindfey (how long 
foever pall) and your own Merit, can oblige a very grateful Man to be 
faithfully, Sincerely, and Eternally, Dear Nephew, 

Your moft humble Servant, 


( 297 ) 

To Madam 


If itt were worth any thing to bee belov’d by mee you were the richeft 
woman in y* world: but hnce my Love is of foe little vallue, chide y r owne 
eyes for making fuch poore conquefts : Though I am juftly proude of being 
y ra yett give mee leave to tell you, there cannott bee more glory in y 1 fervice 
than there is pleafure and true pride in freedome; this I write to affure 
yr La sp , *tis nott through vanity that I affeft the title of y r fervant, but that 
I feele a truth w th in my heart w cl1 my mouth rather does confefs than 
Boaft of, — that there is left for mee, noe pleafure but in y r fmiles, noe life , 
but in yr favour, noe Heaven but in y r Love; when I deferve foe ill, tha tJ- 
you would Torment, kill and Damn mee, Madam you need but hate me. . 


To the Earl of Essex. 

Apr: 22»</[i677] 

My Lord, 

The bearer of this being to prefent y r Excellence with a reference from 
'f King, wherein my name is to appeare, it becomes my duty to lettyou know 
that I am made ufe of only as a Truftee for Mrs Nelly, & that by a 
particular direction y l favour is humbly begg’d, and much rely’d upon 
by her in this Affayre; and my part is noe more but to advife her (as I 
would all I wilh well to), by any means to bee oblig’d to y r Excellence if 
theyxan, fince there is noe where to bee found a better friend or worthyer 
Patron; how lincerely this is my opinion, you would not doubt, My Lord, 
could I make appeare to you, w tb how much zeale & faithfulnefs, I am, 
& wilh ever to continue 

Y r humble Servant, 



To Dr. Thos. Pierce, of Magdalen College, Oxon. 

My indifpolition renders my in telle ftuals almoft as feeble as my 
perfon; but, conlidering y* candour & extream charity yo 1 natural 
mildnefs hath always Ihewed me, I am allured at once both of a favourable 
conftruftion of my prefent lines, w ch can but faintly exprefs y« sorrowful 

( 298 ) 


**— . . $ Qg= L!'i- = s=s = : ssssss > 

chara&er of an humble and afflicted mind, and alfo thofe great comforts 
yo 1 inexhauftible goodnefs, learning, and piety, plenteoufly affords to 
y 6 drooping fpirits of poor linners; fo y‘ I may truly fay, Holy Man! to 
you I owe w‘ confolation I enjoy, in urging God’s mercyes ag 81 defpair, 
and holding me up under y® weight of thofe high and mountainous fins 
my wicked and ungovernable life hath heaped upon me. If God lhall be 
pleafed to fpare me a little longer here, I have unalterably refolved to 
become a new man, as to wafh out y® ftains of my lewd courfes w t& my 
tears, & weep over the profane and unhallowed abominations of my 
former doings, y l ye world may fee how I loth fin, & abhor ye very remem- 
brance of thofe tainted and unclean joys I once delighted in; thefe being, 
as the Apoftle tells us, the things whereof I am now alhamed: Or if it be 
his great pleafure now to put a period to my days, that he will accept of 
my ladt gafp, y* ye fmoak of my death-bed offering may not be unfavoury 
to his noftrils, and drive me like Cain from before his prefence. Pray for 
me, dear Dodtor; and all you y* forget not God pray for me fervently. 
Take Heaven by force, & lett me enter w th you, as it were in difguife; for 
I dare not appear before the dread Majefty of that Holy One I have fo 
often offended. Warn all my f nds and companions to a true & fincere 
repentance to-day, while it is called to-day, before ye evil day come, and 
they be no more. Let them know y‘ fin is like the Angeles Book in the 
Revelations; it is fweet in the mouth and bitter in the belly. Lett them 
know that God will not be mocked; that he is an Holy God, and will be 
ferved in holinefs and purity, that he requires the whole man and the 
early man. Bid them make hafte, for ye night cometh, when no man can 
work. Oh! y‘ they were wife; that they would confider this; and not 
with me, w th wretched me, delay it un till their latter end. Pray, dear S 1 , 
continually pray for your poor friend, 


Ranger’s Lodge in Woodftock Park, 

July, 1680. 


The Earl of Rochefter’s letter to Doctor Burnet as he lay on his death 
bed at his Lodge in Woodftock Park wrot by his own hand June ye 25 th 
1680 at 12 at night. 

My moft Honoured Doftor Burnet , 

My fpirits and body decay fo equally together that I fha.ll write you 
a letter as weak as I am in Perfon. I begin to value Church Men above 
all men in the world and you above all Church Men in it. If God be 

( 299 ) 


•* ■ ■■ = =gg = 1 = = — > 

pleas’d to fpare me yet longer in this world, I hope in your converfation 
to be exalted to your degree of piety, that the World may fee how much 
I abhor what I fo long loved and how much I glory in repentance, in God’s 
fervice. Beftow your prayers upon me, that God would fpare me (if it be 
his good Will) to fhew a true Repentance and Amendment of life for the 
time to come: Or elfe if the Lord pleafeth to put an end to my worldly 
being now, that he would mercifully accept of my Death-Bed Repentance, 
and perform that Promife that he hath been pleafed to make, that at what 
time foever a Sinner doth Repent, He would receive him. Put up thefe 
Prayers, moft: dear Doftor, to Almighty God for your moft Obedient and 
Langui filing Servant. 


( 300 ) 


Poems that stand outside , and may not he' included 
in the Rochester canon , for reasons that are given in 
the Textual Notes at the end of the volume. 


A Masque for the Tragedy of Valentinian , written 
by Sir Francis Fane. 


Five Tetters from Anne , Dowager Countess of 
Rochester , giving some account of her son in his last 


O— 1 






H OW far are they deceiv’d, who hope in Vain 
A lafting Leafe of Joys from Love t’obtain? 

All the dear Sweets we promife or expert, 

After Enjoyment, turn to cold Negledt. 

Cou’d Love a conftant Happinefs have known, 

The mighty wonder had in me been fhown; 

Our Paflions are fo favoured by Fate, 

As if.fhe meant them an Eternal Date; 

So kind you lookt, fuch tender Words you fpoke 
’Twas paft belief, fuch Vows fhou’d e’er be broke. 

Fixt on my Eyes, how often did you fay, 

You cou’d with pleafure gaze an Age away? 

When Thoughts too great for Words had made you mute, 
In kifles you wou’d tell my Hand your Suit. 

So great your Paflions were, fo far above 
The common Gallantries, that pafs for Love. 

At worft I thought, if you unkind fhou’d prove 
Your ebbing Paflion wou’d be kinder far, 

Than the firft Tranfports of all others are. 

Nor was my Love or Fondnefs lefs than yours. 

In you I center’d all my Hopes 

For you, my Duty to my Friends forgot, 

For you, I loft, alas what loft I not? 

Fame, all the valuable things of Life, 

To meet your Love by a lefs name than Wife; 

How happy was I then, how dearly bleft, 

When you .lay panting on my tender Breaft, 

A&ing fuch things, as ne’er can be expreft. 

Thoufand frefh looks you gave me e’ry hour, 

Whilft greedily I did thofe Looks devour; 

Till quite o’ercome with Charms I trembling lay 
At e’ery look you gave, melted away: 

I was fo highly happy in your Love, 

Methoughts I pitied them that dwelt Above. 

( 3°3 ) 



-^V; . 

Think then thou Greateft, Lovelieft, Falfeft Man, 
How you have vow’d, how I have lov’d and then 
My Faithlefs Dear, be Cruel if you can. 

How I have Lov’d, I cannot, need not tell; 

For ev’ry Aft has fhown I lov’d too well. 

Since firft I faw you, I ne’er had a Thought, 

Was not entirely yours, to you I brought 
My Virgin Innocence, and freely made, 

My Love an Offering to your noble Bed. 

Since when ye’ave been the Star by which I fteer’d 
And nothing elfe but you I Lov’d or Fear’d. 

Your Smiles I only Live by, and I muff, 

Whene’er you Frown, be flutter'd into Duff. 

O ! Can the Coldnefs which you fhow me now, 
Suit with the generous Heat you once did fhow? 

I cannot live on pity or refpeft, 

A Thought fo mean, wou’d my whole Love Infeft, 
Less then your Love, I fcorn Sir to expeft. 

Let me not live in dull IndifF rency, 

But give me rage enough to make me Die : 

For if from you I needs muff meet my Fate, 

Before you Pity, I wou’d choofe your Hate. 


’rpIS the Arabian Bird alone 
J_ Lives Chaff, becaufe there is but One: 
But had kind Nature made them Two, 

They would like Doves and Sparrows do. 


O F all the Plagues with which this World abounds, 
Our Difcord’s caufes, Wideners of our Wounds, 
Sure Woman is the lewdeft can be gueft, 

Thro’ Woman Mankind early ill did tafte, 

She was the World’s firft Curfe, will be the laft. 

To fhew what Woman is, Heav’n made Charles Wife, 
Some Angel fcale the Blindnefs of his Eyes ! 

Reftor’d by Miracle he may believe, 

( 3°4 ) 



And feeing’s Follies, learn, tho’ late to live. 

Why art thou poor, oh King-imhezling 

That wide-mouth’d greedy Monfter that has done’t; 

Thee and three Kingdoms have thy Drabs deftroy’d, 

Yet they are ftill uncur’d, and thou uncloy’d. 

Go vifit P[orts\mouth , falling, if thou dareft, 

Which well thou may’ll, at the poor Rate thou farefl. 

She’ll with her noifome Breath blaft ev’n thy Face, 

Till thou thyfelf grow uglier than her Grace. 

Remove that coftly Dunghill from thy Doors, 

If thou mull have, then ufe cheap, wholefome Whores. 

Take T[em]ple, who can live on Cheefe and Ale, 

Who never but to Bilhops yet turn’d Tail. 

She’s feafon’d, fit to bear a double Brunt, • 

l\ondd\n in her Rowley in her 

B[isho]p and K[ing], choofe handy-dandy either, 

They ftill club Votes, why not club S ds together? 

Elfe choofe G[odolfhi~\n , who there’s little hurt in, 

She’ll for Cloaths, for all file’s call’d a Fortune. 

Befides, there’s Swan and Chevins ’em, fill ’em; 

And Mrs V\tlle\rs , Sifter to Sir William. 

Ram all thy Maids of Honour, whilft thou art able, 

And make thy barren Q[ueen] keep up their Table. 

But from her Den expel old Ulcer quite, 

She fliines i’th’ Dark, like rotten Wood by Night, 

Dreads Pepper, Penance, Parliaments, and Light. 

Once with thy People’s Prayers refolve to join, 

She’s all the Nation’s Nuifance, why not thine? 

Own to the World her Brats, not thine at all, 

For Father H[amilt\on fliines thro’ ’em all; 

His Impudence, his Falfliood, and ill Nature, 

Each inward Vice, and ev’ry outward Feature, 

True H\amilt\on in every A£l and Look ; 

But to record thy Blindnefs made a Duke. 

Then next, turn fav’rite Nelly out of Door, 

That hairbrain’d, hackney’d wrinkl’d, ftopt up Whore, 

Daily ftuck, ftab’d by half the in Town, 

Yet ftill her ftubborn C s come not down, 

But lie and nourilh old Difeafes there, 

Which thou and many thy poor Subjects fhare. 

’Twas once with thee, indeed, as ’twas with Ore "i 

Uncoin’d: file was no publick common Store, r 

Only B\uckhur\JP s private artful Whore. J 

x ( 305 ) 


) ^ o S l T SSSS^ " S» 

But when that thou in wanton Itch, 

With Royal had damp'd her 

She grew a common, current B h, 

Then for that C[u]b her Son and Heir, 

Let him remain in Otway' s Care; 

To make him, if that’s poffible to be, 

A viler Poet, and more dull than he. 

So at the next Newmarket Meeting, 

When thy Senate fhould be fitting; 

Where Knaves and Fools, and Courtiers do refort, 

And Players come from far to make the Sport, 

As in thy Barn thou {halt in State behold 
The Maid of the Weft, or Girl worth Gold, 

Sitting with moft deje&ed Grace, 

And me fleering in thy Face : 

Then, like a Monarch , as thou art, 

Lay thy Hand upon thy Heart; 

Kick her for her lewd cajoling, 

And bid her turn to her old Trade of Stroling. 

But He£lors fhall forget to drink, 

Mall H\into\n have no P[ox] nor Stink, 

Lord S\underlari\d be honeft, M\ulgra\ve civil, 

B[isho]ps believe a God or Devil; 

Dryden not mouze a Whore, when he can get her, 

Or have his Penfion paid; that’s better: 

M\onmou]th turn again to’s Duty, 

And Tartar C[e]* be thought a Beauty. 

No more Libels fhall be written, 

The Court fhall be without a Mitton , 

E’er thou fhalt have a Friend to tell 

Thee, I have here advis’d thee well ; ' 

But how Slight foe’er they make it, 

The Counfel’s good, believe and take it. 


T O honourable Court there lately came 
A Knight of the County of Nottingham, 
Deferring poor Cook-Maid, and Houfe of his Name, 

Which no Body can deny. 

( 306 ) 



' " ■ " ■ "*= 1 1 ==============& 

When the Maids of Honour heard of that, 

They with furbifh’d old Faces, of Marriage did chat, 

And hop’d fhortly to leave old Portugal Kate. 

Which no Body can deny . 

Next C\r anymore for her lame Daughter appears, 

And G[_od]frey’s Crane was as active for hers; 

Ah! cries my Aunt Nunn , are you there with the Bears? 

Which no Body can deny. 

Then ftrait away fhe trots to her Brother, 

Who for Sh\rews]bury and I[sK\am had made fuch a Pother, 

And cries, I’ve got a Knight worth two of the other. 

Which no Body can deny. 

Seven Thoufand a Year he has, I’m told, 

But Fame, in thofe Cafes, is often too bold, 

And for him the Court Virgins all fcramble and fcold. 

Which no Body can deny . ' 

At the Dutcheffes Ball, V\illt\ers mightily ftickl’d, 

And thought with a Dance ftie his Fancy had tickl'd, 

A noble Lord notes, like Cucumber pickl’d. 

Which no Body can deny. 

G[odolpK\in to tempt him, fell off from her Horfe, 

To perfect the Conqueft of Face by her 

A pleafanter Sight than a Newmarket Farce. 

Which no Body can deny. 

Pious T[e\mple, who long has been mufty and Stale, 

By her daily Devotion, and hope to prevail, 

To gain him and Credit for more Bottle-Ale. 

Which no Body can deny. 

Pox o’ your G[odolpht]ns, your V[illt]ers and T[e]mples, 

Quoth Chiffinch, my Daughter has that that will pleafe, 

And the Knight’s fomewhat troubled, they fay, with the Simples. 

Which no Body can deny. 

And Serjeant Pr[i]ce tells me, that Contradt is broke 
’Twixt him, and the Daughter of Newcastle] Duke, 

On the Score of her greafy Rival the Cook. 

Which no Body can deny. 

( 3°7 ) 



* ===== — 0 & — 

Of this lubberly Knight you need not defpair, 

When the K is next Drunk, he fhall make him a Peer, 

We’ll win him with Goodnefs, or awe him with Fear. • 

Which no Body can deny. 



O F all Quality Whores, modeft Betty for me, 

He’s an impudent Rogue durft lay Virtue to thee, 
Both of Tongue, and of Tail, there’s no Female more free. 


Her Savoy Devotion fhe has lately giv’n o’er, 

How cou’d fhe play Saint, and refrain from the Whore, 

Whofe more lewd than e’er How[ar\d was, or F\illf\ers before. 


Her Zeal and her Luft, both equally known, 

Juft Gods will reward with a heav’nly Crown, 

Out-fhining the Mitre of fan&ified Joan. 


She ftarts at no Runnion of lubberly Stallion, 

But quickly chaftifes all in Rebellion, 

And is able to beat a whole Catfo Batallion. 


Believe little Jockey , full nimbly fhe ftirs, 

Without the Incitement of Whip or of Spurs, 

May Newmarket ne’er want fuch true Mettle as hers. 


She’s a delicate Filly, that all Men agree, 

More able than Dragon , than Darcey or Gee , 

What Pity it is fhe runs refty with thee ? 

( 308 ) 



W HY doft thou fhade thy lovely face ? O why 
Does that eclipfing hand of thine deny 
The funfhine of the Sun’s enliving eye ? 

Without thy light what light remains in me ? 

Thou art my life; my way, my light’s in thee; 

I live, I move, and by thy beams I fee. 

Thou art my life — if thou but turn away 
My life’s a thoufand deaths. Thou art my way — 
Without thee, Love, I travel not but ftay. 

My light thou art — Without thy glorious fight 
My eyes are darken’d with eternal night. 

My Love, thou art my way, my life, my light. 

Thou art my way; I wander if thou fly. 

Thou art my light; if hid, how blind am II 
Thou art my life; if thou withdraw’!!, I die. 

My eyes are dark and blind, I cannot fee: 

To whom or whither fhould my darknefs flee, 

But to that light ? and who’s that light but thee ? 

If I have loft my path, dear lover, fay, 

Shall I ftill wander in a doubtful way ? 

Love, fhall a lamb of Ifrael’s fheepfold ftray? 

My path is loft, my wandering fteps do ftray; 

I cannot go, nor can I fafely ftay; 

Whom fhould I feek but thee, my path, my way ? 

And yet thou turn ’ft thy face away and fly’ft me! 
And yet I fue for grace and thou deny’ft me! 
Speak, art thou angry, Love, or only try’ft me ? 

Thou art the pilgrim’s path, the blind Man’s eye, 
The dead Man’s life. On thee my hopes rely: 

If I but them remove, I furely die. 

( 3°9 ) 


•g - — - — ' 4^*"* ' " 1 — = & 

Diffolve thy funbeams, clofe thy wings and ftay ! 

See, fee how I am blind, and dead, and ftray! 

. . . O thou that art my life, my light, my way ! 

Then work thy will ! If paffion bid me flee, 

My Reafon fhall obey, my wings fhall be 
Stretch’d out no farther than from me to thee! 


To the Tune oj An old Man with a Bed full of Bones. 


I N an eminent Street, Sirs, near to Whetftone' s Park, 
Where they commonly Fiddle, as foon as ’tis dark, 
There was a gallant Meeting of many a fine Spark, 

With a Fa, la, la, la, la, la, la, etc. 


A matronly Dame, with a feathered Fan, 

Whofe Knight did formerly charge Tetuan, 

Was thought the moft able to lead up the Van. 

With a Fa, la, etc. 


A decent old Perfonage of riper Years, 

As by her want of Teeth plainly appears, 

For her Wifdom was trailed to bring up the Rear, 

With a Fa, la, etc. 

This Feaft was provided for a Lady fair, 

Who from the Dunghill was rais’d to a Player, 

And at laft had the Luck to bring Flatfoot an Heir, 

With a Fa, la, etc. 

The Lady o’th’ Houfe was a ftrait, upright Lafs, 
Invincible Lewdnefs adorned her Face, 

Her Husband Hood by her, and look’d like an Afs, 

With a Fa, la, etc. 

( 3io ) 



' 1 ' z^=^======^Q£=^======s==== = -' ", J >* 


From two neighb’ring Doors off, as foon as ’twas Night, 

Came tripping along, Sirs, a Damfel fo bright, 

Had fhe kept better Company fhe was for a Knight. 

With a Fa, la, etc. 


Her Partner, altho’ of a moft noble Race, 

Had his been no better than his Wit or his Face, 

He had never been gracious with that pretty Lafs. 

With a Fa, la, etc. 


There was a bouncing Widow with a Patch on her Nofe, 

Who loves the the better, the elder it grows, 

And has learn’d of the Tartar to with her Toes. 

With a Fa, la, etc. 


She brought along with her a bonny young Maid, 

Who at Sight of thefe Gallants at firft feem’d afraid, 

As if fhe had not been us’d to the Trade. 

With a Fa, la, etc. 


A lufty young Fellow they’d each of them got, • 

That trounc’d ’em and bounc’d ’em, till they were wond’rous hot, 
Then took ’em afide to do I know not what. 

With a Fa, la, etc. 


A Jew too there was, to make up the Farce, 

With a great Bag of Money, and a fwinging huge T 

Which was ready to thruft into ev’ry ones 

With a Fa, la, etc. 


At firft they all wond’red what a Devil he meant, 

But he gave both the Women and Men fuch Content, 

That to’s Houfe the next Day to Dinner they went. 

With a Fa, la, etc. 


Where after he’d well feafted this jolly Crew, 

Their innocent Paftimes, they then did renew, 

And were up and down both by Chriftian and Jew. 

With a Fa, la, etc. 

( ) 

. =$£& = 




To the Tune of Dr. P take Exceptions. 

S t[amfor\d is her Sex’s Glory, 

And the Heroin of our Age, 

Shall be fam’d in future Story, 

Since file’s fiiewn upon the Stage: 

She, poor Soul, for Recreation, 

F with ev’ry Prig in the Nation. 

Richmond] had a Thoufand T rfes, 

Mazarine as many more, 

Sometimes her fometimes her is 

and o’er and o’er. 

Let Miftrefs Buckley not be troubled, 

Whilft her G[odoljphin\ will be bubbled. 

A\rundell ] is not a Beauty, 

Yet file Favours can afford; 

With a Dozen file’ll do Duty, 

And then entertain her Lord. 

Poor Lady Betty will be undone, 

Since her dear Monmouth muff leave London ; 
She at the Plays and Park will fpark it, 

Now her dull Husband’s at Newmarket. 

Lady G\re]y, whofe early Merit, 

T without Number rais’d, 

Was forewarn’d by Hatfield Spirit, 

That file might amend her Ways: 

But let the Devil leave contriving, 

She’ll rather damn, than not be . 

Lory Hfyd]e' s a great Pretender 
To the Dutchefs Mazarine ; 

Tho’ his be weak and {lender, 

Yet his Money lets him in; 

Whilft his good Wife, t’avoid Afperfion 
With her own Porter takes Diverfion. 

( 312 ) 


============== ' 

C\hurchiU\ is a flaming beauty, 

And her Favours will difpence; 

Never doubt lhe’ll be as true t’ye, 

As file has been to her great Pr nee; 

But have a care of her P g; 

For her Intrigues end in fl g. 


(To him that wrote on Satire.) 

R AIL on poor feeble Scribler, fpeak of me, 

In as bad Terms, as the World fpeaks of thee. 
Sit fwelling in thy Hole, like a vext Toad, 

And full of Pox and Malice, fpit abroad. 

Thou can’ll hurt no Mans Fame with thy ill word, 
Thy Pen, is full as harmlefs as thy Sword. 


(Alternative verfion of: Such perf eft Blifs. . . .) 

H OW happy Claris (were they free) 
Might our enjoyments prove? 

But you with former Jealoufie, 

Are ftill tormenting Love. 

Let us (fince Wit inftru£ls us how) 

Raife Pleafure to the top, 

If Rival Bottle, you’ll allow 
I’ll fuffer Rival FOP. 

Ther’s not a brisk infipid Spark, 

That flutters in the Town, 

But with your wanton Eyes you mark. 

The Coxcomb for your own. 

( 313 ) 




You do not think it worth your care, 
How empty nor how dull, 

The Heads of your admirers are, 

So that their Veins are full. 

All this you freely may confefs, 

Yet we’ll not difagree; 

For did you love your pleafure less 
You were not fit for me. 

While I my Paffion to purfue, 

Am whole Night’s taking in 

The lufty juice of Grapes, take you 
The lufty juice of Men. 

: 3 > 

( 3H) 



A M A S K 

Made at the Requefl of the late Earl of Rocbefer, 
for the Tragedy of Valentinian. 

The Scene. Lucina, Maximus his Wife fleeping. 

Enter Zephyr us and Favonius , uihering in the Moon. 

Zephy. T T AIL facred Cynthia ! mutable, but chafte 

ll As the cold Air by which thou art embrac’d, 
Changing thy Shape as often as thy Stations 
With new Difguifes and falfe Affignations, 

Or hid in an Eclipfes Vizard-Mask, 

Thou cheat’ft the Gods in Love’s laborious Task, 

Mother of calmeft Thoughts and facred Dreams, 

The Earths beft neighbour, lending thy kind beams 
To plants, to beafts, to men, to grounds, and ftreams, 
Without whofe Influence not a Hair grows well, 

Nor fpire of Grafs, nor Blood, nor Waves can fwell ; 
Parent of temp’rate Paffions ftill allay’d 
By thy decreafe, as by thy fulnefs made. 

Fav. Falfly believ’d Sol's Sifter, thou’rt his Wife 
Impregnated with fertile Worlds of Life, 

Breeding or teeming ftill, and bring’ft to’s Bed 
A new Face every day, a monthly Maiden-head. 

Sol that delights in chafte Polygamy, 

Cafts fruitful beams on Tellies, and on thee. 

Contented Wives the Earth, and Moon repay 
Light to each other from their Husband’s Ray. 

Chafte Relics of the Sun ! thou weep’ft his Fate 
In dewy Tears, and mak’ft him lie in State: 

Thy heavenly Hall with Blacks and Lamps adorning 
Hid at his Refurredtion in the Morning, 

Thy Splendour to thy Husband’s Beams refigning, 

And humbly in his Abfence only fhining. 

Proceed, Great Queen, to thy divine Intent, 

Preferve this Loyal Wife, and Crimes prevent. 

Sweeping with gentle Gales the Cyprian Coaft, 

I blow fome Whifpers from the heavenly Hoft. 

( 315 ) 


Hermes and Venus were in Confultation 
Upon their flight to the All-conquering Nation. 

’Tis time fome powerful God Ihould mifchiefs ftay, 

When Love and Eloquence are on their way. 

The Moon. Now thrice feven times, fince my Increafe, have I 
Walk’d round the fleeping World in watchful Sky, 

And fummon’d all my twinkling Spies to know 
Th’ effedts of Paffions they imprefs’d below, 

(Where we fow joys, and griefs, and hopes, and fears, 

As men fow Herbs and Flowers in their Parterres, 

For Phylick fome, fome planted for Delight, 

And happy thofe that know to ufe them right,) 

But have not found a Mortal fo oppreft, 

Honour purfu’d, and panting in the Breaft 
Of this bright fpotlefs Dame, now takes fome reft. 

Well done, good Somntts, powerfully repair 
With thy chafte Opiates that weighty Care 
That friendly Foe frail Women cannot fpare. 

Ah lovely Face ! which juftly might excufe 
Thy Prince, if he did beg for a Refufe, 

And tempt thee to the Glory to deny, 

For Vertue brighter fliines than Sol, or I; 

But he would uncontroul’d do all like us, 

Poor Titular God, and envies Maximus. 

Too happy Maximus! could Fortune ftay, 

And from thofe dangerous heights not roll away, 

Great Joys are to be fear’d for their Allay. 

But Vertue, Fortune’s Queen, preferves entire 
Eternal Rules; bold mortals that enquire, 

Curioufly ftirring up, put out the Holy Fire. 

Safe in thofe Laws, Lucina, might thou reft 
With mutual Love, Vertues beft fafeguard bleft: 

But Man, that compound Mortal’s ne’re fecure, 

Whilft Souls are fleepy, and the Flefti impure. 

Here, take thefe Lillies, arm’d for thy defence [Throws down Lillies . 
As white and cold as Snow or Innocence 

Steep’d in the Ice-houfe of the River Styx, 

Where Jove drinks Healths to ftrangers when they mix 
With heavenly Beings, and muft ceafe to know 
Th’ uneafie Joys of the poor World below. 

Sleep on, fair Saint, with heavenly Vifions bleft, 

Let no black Dreams defile thy fnowy Breaft, 

Nor Fiends corrupt thee, tho’ like Angels dreft. 

( 316 ) 


==^^===§ 3 ^===— — — 3 . 

Enter Mercury and Venus. 

Mer. Has Flefh and Blood need of a Power divine 
To raife their Sympathy, and make ’em joyn? 

Is’t not enough to pimp for facred Jove , 

But every Prince below muft have a Love, 

Inflexible to all but Bawds above ? 

Ven. You run too faft my Agent, Rome declines, 

The Eagles mew their wings, which heaven defigns 
Shall further fly. The Pilot drunk with Love 
The great Ship runs aground. Shall mighty Jove 
Enrich a Prince with all the powerful Charms 
Of Beauty, Wit, and Vertue, Arts, and Arms? 

And fhall a wretched half-concoded She 
Depofe a Demy-God, cramp Vi dory, 

Rebellious to her Prince, to Jove, and Me ? 

Deftroy an Empire for this monftrous Crime 
’Gainft Honour, only fit for Plays in Rhyme, 

Idle Difcourfe, not Adion, that gay Dame 
For all her fhifts of Gawdery, not of Name 
Or Quality in Heaven above: an odious Broker 
Betwixt rich Vertues, Daughters of the Gods, 

And bankrupt Sins the brats of needy Mortals. 

Dofl thou, t’aflift me, £hod with wings repine ? 

Thy Mailer’s Credit lies at flake, not mine. 

Me. Why, Madam Venus , you can take your fport, 

Cuckold your Hufband, ling, and dance at Court, 

And like a lazy Lady coach about, 

Whilft I muft trudge my Legs and Feathers out. 

My Errands are fo quick, my Time fo fhort, 

That I can get no Wife, nor Miflrefs for’t. 

There’s ne’re a Lawyer, but his venial Tongue 
Is tip’d by me: dark points of right and wrong, 

Not obvious to all Hearers, I can clear 
To the doubt-making Judge, tell how, and where 
The puzzled Audience with Contention fpent 
A Bribe may fafely make a Prefident. 

Never a Tradefman cheats, Sedarift prays, 

Stationer fells, or Poet Heals his Plays, 

Rhetorical Fool muft prate, or be in Print, 

Infuring Statefman Plot, but Mercury is in’t. 

Fen. I tell thee, Mercury, thy Trade’s but fmall 
To mine, that does ingrofs and fwallow all. 

( 317 ) 


Mine’s like the Ocean, •whence I took my Birth, 

All ffcreams of Bus’nefs crowd from churlifh Earth, 
Breaking from Cuftoms bounds and living Graves, 
Seek Liberty in our ungovern’d waves. 

Vices Cabal each other does fupply, 

Pride Rapine moves, Rapine feeds Luxury; 

But all their motions tend to amorous Joy: 

What’s more than that, for Mankind is too high, 
What makes the ftreet befpatter’d Lawyer trudge? 
What oyl’s the turn-ftile Confcience of a Judge ? 
They fqueeze the juicy Rich, and bruife the Poor, 
Refunding Fees to their more griping Whore. 

When Sifters throng into the Meeting-place, 

I drefs up Cupid like a Babe of Grace. 

The Teacher is to Repetition brought, 

Swaddled with Neck-cloath, tender, over-wrought, 
Rub’d, and repair’d with Cordials, he becomes 
A fecret Morfel for the hallowed Gums. 

If Poets write, and Love be not their Text, 

Nor Women hear them, Fame will leave them next. 
’Tis I that do infpire the Sword or Pill, 

Make Souldiers fpare, and make Phyficians kill; 
Repairing Murders ftill with Propagations; 

I root out faplefs Plants, but people Nations. 
Beauty’s the current Coin that none refufes, 

The Bribe of Mars , Minerva , and the Mufes : 

Love’s grown fo general, more Gods fhould be made 
To carry on the bufie amorous Trade; 

’Tis from a liberal Art turn’d a Difeafe, 

Infe&ing thofe that have not Strength nor Eafe; 
Each dying Letcher keeps a hungry Female 
To gaze upon, and handle, like fine knacks, 
Religious Pi&ures, pretty Saints in Wax : 

But Flelh and Blood abhors Idolatry, 

By Foot-men eas’d of their Divinity; 

Nay every Porter keeps a Mifs, muft wear 
On her gay Limbs, the Labour of a Year. 

I am the Mother of Delights, refrefhing 

The weary World with Love, of Pleafures fupreme, 

’Caufe Nature higheft ends to it align'd, 

All others ferve but Man, and this Mankind. 

Mer. Weak is the power of Wits affe&ed noife 
To the dumb Rhetorick of charming Eyes. 

( 318 ) 


Goddefs you’ve conquered, and it is your Part 
Both to fubdue and mollifie her Heart: 

I’ve tip’d his Tongue with all the charms of Wit, 

Would melt a Rock, debauch an Anchorit, 

Calm a tempeftuous Sea, tempt a fix’d Star 
From Heaven, or make a Tyger lye in’s Lap ; 

Make Cynthia turn a Whore, or thee a Nun: 

Yet all thefe words, like ruffling winds, make her 
Sit fafer in white Robes of Innocence, 

Wrapping them clofe about her : 

Try if thy fultry amorous Heats can make 
Her throw them off. 

Fen. Oh ! I have fir’d her Blood, and fill’d her Mind 
With the Ideas of all brave mankind; 

To which her Husband feems a Creffc-fall’n monfter, 

Put Stars into the Emperor’s Eyes, foft heavenly motions 
Into his Limbs, gentle furprizing Vigor, 

Which with its fmooth and regular Approaches 
Would make defencelefs a rude Amazon, 

Or fteal into the Trenches of a Veftal. 

’Tis true I never call’d my Son too fure — 

Kings, without Cupid's Aid, might Love procure. 

Mer. Then call him ftrait, and let him arm his Bow, 

Pierce and repierce the Adamantine Foe 

With his new Darts whet on Jove’s Thunder-bolt, 

Feather’d with Sparrows wings, fhafted with Mirtle 
Steep’d in the Blood of Goats, and Lovers tears : 

Barb’d with the Ir’n of Nets which Vulcan threw 
On Man and thee, when Gods were call’d to view. 

Sharp as the Tongue of a forfaken Scold. 

Ven. Cupid, come down, our Deities controul’d, 

And bring the Quiver Jove with Rifles gave thee 
For New-years-gift, then fee who dares out-brave thee. 

[Cupid defcends and fhoots; the Arrow breaks. 
Mer. If gentle heavenly Gods cannot reclaim 
The haggard heart of an ill-manner’d Dame, 

Let’s ask Advice of Hell’s great Lords, to tame 
The only Woman of this awkward frame. 

Ven. Rife Pluto, rife, with all th’ infernal Powers, 

Proud Mortals learn new Laws, and feoff at ours : 

The Honour of the Gods is now engaged; 

Ne’re Woman was fo cool, nor Goddefs fo enrag’d. 

[Pluto rifes with his Infernal Train. 

( 319 ) 


« = - l . 

P/a. What trifling’s this! fo many Gods combin’d 
Againft a thoughtlefs, cuftom-ridden Female, 

Much weaker than the He prefumptuous Wight, 

Who only ’caufe he prates, and walks upright, 

Values himfelf ’bove other Animals, 

Weaker than Beafts in pleafures and in fenfe, 

Weaker in Prudence and his own Defence: 

A god-like Victory, a moft coeleftial Prize, 

To make a Female take her wifh’d-for Joys. 

The under-fhrubs of Men give Women odds; 

Are thefe Proceedings fit for Kings or Gods ? 

Fen. If Beauty, Wit, and Greatnefs £he defpife, 

What more alluring Baits can’ll thou devife ? 

P/a. Muft thofe be courted that are made to yield 
Who parlies with a Foe that wants a Shield, 

Or asks men leave to do them Courtefies ? 

Clients fometimes muft force the gap’t-for Fees. 

What faintly offer’d, fcarce deferves the Thanks 
Of the Receiver: Gratitude t’excite, 

Prefs Bounties home, and make men feel their weight. 

Women were made on purpofe to be ravifhed, 

Nature had arm’d them elfe, nor left unguarded 
The Avenues of Love: 

Honour commands an open Citadel, 

The Traytor makes a ftiow, but can’t, nor won’t repell. 

Who would ftand knocking at an unlock’d Gate? 

Or, who in’s Porch can hope to fave his Plate ? 

For fhame difpatch, and difabufe the Prince, 

Give him his Play-thing, he’ll be quiet ftraight. 

The Empire will grow ftrong, and Armies fight, 

And more Souls tumble to eternal night; 

Ambition damns more Mortals, than Delight. 

Mer. Spoke like great Pluto, Venus, don’t repine 
To lofe the Glory, getting your Defign. 

The matter lies not what, but how to have; 

What more can Mankind give, or Woman crave? 

None e’re was ravifh’d, but with clofe confent; 

Shame makes them fometimes quarrel, ne’r repent. 

Was e’re ambitious man forc’d to a Crown, 

Hunger compelled to feed ? Are wearied men 
Said to be robb’d of Burdens ? Do I force 
The falling fruit that drops into my hand ? 

( 3 2 ° ) 




Letter I. 

[June, 1680.] 

Sweet Sifter , 

It has pleas’d God to lay his afflictive hand upon my poor fon, in 
vifiting of him with a fore ficknefs; and whether for life or death, we 
cannot guefs: but he is reduc’d to great weaknefs, in the outward man. 
But, in the midft of puniftiment, HE has remember’d mercy, and {Length- 
en'd him in the inward man, to the comfort of me, his poor mother. For, 
never all the former lickneffes he has had, did, in the leaft meafure, work 
fo much upon him, to the knowledge and acknowledgment of God, and 
to repentance of his former life, and the fenfe how he has gone aftray, as 
this doth. 

I am not able to write you a long letter: I can only fay this, that, tho’ 
he lies under as much mifery, almoft, as human man can bear, yet he bears 
his fufferings with fo much patience, and refignation to God’s will, that, 
I confefs, I take more comfort in him, under this vifitation, than ever I did 
in all my life before; and tho’ the Lord has been pleas’d, not to work this 
work upon him till the laft hour, yet, I have great reafon to believe, he will 
find mercy, thro’ the merits and fatisfa&ion of Chriffc, on whom he throws 
himfelf, for the favour of God. 

O fifter, I am fure, had you heard the heavenly prayers he has made, 
fince this ficknefs; the extraordinary things he has faid, to the wonder of 
all that has heard him, you would wonder, and think that God alone muft 
teach him; for no man could put into him fuch things as he fays. He has, 
I muft tell you too, converted his wife to be a proteftant again. Pray, pray 
for his perfeverance, dear fifter; and pardon me, that I can fay no more, 
but to reft, madam, 

Your affectionate Servant, 

Ann Rochester. 

To the Lady St. John, at her houfe, 
at Batterfea. 


( 32i ) 


Letter II. 


[June, 1680.] 

My dear Sifter, 

Mr. Blaakert did not deliver me your letter, till this Monday morn- 
ing; and juft now, I am going to [Adderbury], where I have not been thefe 
five weeks; but intend to return to my fon in a day. The account I can 
give you of him, is much as my laft: he continues weak; but is fometimes 
better than he is others. The greateft comfort he enjoys, is his fleep; and 
that he does much. He has a kind of a heftick fever upon him, as the 
doctors call it; which is not at all times; for, fometimes, his temper is 
good outwardly, but, the doftor fays, he is hot inwardly; yet I cannot think 
it, becaufe he is feldom dry. He drinks affes’ milk, and it digefts well with 
him; and fome other fpoon meats; but he takes no broaths made with 
meat, for fear of heat. He fpits mightily, within thefe two days; which 
fome fay is good for him: but I find all evacuations weaken him. I con- 
fefs, I cannot difcern amendment in him yet; but, as long as life is, we 
have hopes. I thank God, his fenfe continues very well, and when his 
ftrength will give him leave, expreffes himfelf with great devotion, both 
upon account of his former ill life, with great humility. He lays himfelf 
low, before the throne of Grace; begging favour 8c pardon from God, 
upon the account of the merits of Chrift alone: acknowledging himfelf the 
greateft of finners. Truly, After, I think I may fay, without partiality, that 
he has been never heard fay, when he fpeaks of religion, an infenfible word, 
nor of anything elfe; but one night, of which I writ you word, he was 
difordered in his head; but then, he faid no hurt; only fome little ribble- 
rabble , which had no hurt in it. But it was obferved by his wife and I 
particularly, that, whenever he fpoke of God, that night, he fpoke well 8c 
with great fenfe; which we wonder’d at. Since that night, he has never 
had a minute of diforder in his head ; that was almoft a fortnight ago. This 
laft night, if you had heard him pray, I am fure, you wou’d not have took 
his words, for the words of a madman; but fuch as came from a better 
fpirit, than the mind of mere man. But, let the wicked of the world fay 
what they pleafe of him, the reproaches of them are an honour to him: 
& I take comfort, that the devil rages againft my fon; it fhows, his power 
over him is fubdued in him, 8c that he has no fhare in him. Many meffages 
and compliments his old acquaintance fend him: but he is fo far from 
receiving of them, that ftill his anfwer is, . . . “ Let me fee none of them; 
8c I would to God, I had never converged with fome of them.” One of 
his phyficians, thinking to pleafe him, told him the king drank his health 
the other day; he look’d earneftly upon him, and faid never a word, but 
turn’d his face from him. I thank God, his thoughts are wholly taken off 
from the world, and, I hope, whether he lives or dies, will ever be fo. But 

( 3 22 ) 


« — 1 &= a- 

they are fine people at Windfor, God forgive them! Sure there never was 
fo great a malice performed, as to entitle my poor fon to a lampoon, at 
this time, when, for aught they know, he lies upon his death-bed. My 
comfort is, that he will partake of that joy, unfpeakable and full of glory, 
in the higheft Heavens, that you wifli him, I hope. Laft night, the very 
expreffion you have made, in your good wi£hes for his foul, he made to 
God, in the conclufion of his prayer, laffc night, . . . “ That he might enjoy 
that unfpeakable blifs, of a place in heaven, (tho’ he were but a door- 
keeper,) to fing to the Lord with the heavenly hoft.” 

I do believe, if any has reported, that he fhou’d fpeak ridiculous, it has 
been the popifh phyfician ; who, one day, liften’d at the door, whilft my 
fon was converfing with a divine: but my fon fpoke fo low, that he could 
hear but half words; & fo he might take it for nonfenfe, becaufe he had 
a mind fo to do. But, I thank God, my fon lays hold on the merits of his 
Saviour, Jefus Chrift, for all his comfort from God: in whofe arms, I truft, 
he will be receiv’d, whene’er he goes out of this world; which is the 
greateft comfort fhe has, who is 


Your affectionate Sifter, 

Ann Rochester. 

My daughter Ro. and my fon, remember their fervice to you & my 
brother, to whom I prefent my affeCtions. 

Letter III. 

June 19. [1680.] 

I muft, dear fitter, give you an account of the firft hopes of comfort I 
have, of my fon Rochefter; who, tho’ he is ftill very weak, yet, thefe two 
days has produced ftrange alterations in him. He fleeps very well, is but 
little feverifh, his great tortures of pain almoft abated, [and he] gathers 
fome ftrength, tho’ but little yet. But God is infinitely merciful, upon all 
accounts, both to his foul and body. ’Tis my great hopes he will per- 
fevere, in the way God has put him in, for his foul’s happinefs. 

I cannot omit one paffage lately: Mr. Fanfhaw, his great friend, has 
been here to fee him; & as he was ftanding by my fon’s bed-fide, he 
look’d earneftly upon him, and faid, . . . “ Fanfhaw, think of a God, let 
me advife you; & repent you of your former life, and amend your ways. 
Believe what I fay to you; there is a God, & a powerful God, & he is 
a terrible God to unrepenting finners; the time draws near, that he will 

( 323 ) 


■ «— = ■ 1 

come to judgment, with great terrour to the wicked; therefore, delay not 
your repentance: his difpleafure will thunder againft you, if you do. You 
& I have been long time acquainted, [and] done ill together. I love the 
man; & fpeak to him out of confcience, for the good of his foul.” Fan- 
Ihaw flood, and faid never a word to him, but ftole away out of the room. 
When my fon faw him go, “ Is a gone? ” fays he, “ poor wretch! I fear 
his heart is harden'd.” After that, Fanfhaw faid to fome in the houfe, that 
my fon fhou’d be kept out of melancholy fancies. This was told my fon 
again: upon which fays he, “ I know why he faid that; it was becaufe I 
gave him my advice; but I cou’d fay no lefs to him that I did, let him take 
it as he pleafes.” 

Dear After, my hope is great: & God is good, on whom I depend for 
good, both for his foul and body. I believe, I have tired you with my dif- 
courfe. I have nothing more at prefent, but to allure you 

I am, Madam, 

Your faithful friend and Servant, 

A. Ro. 

You muft not let Mr. Fanfhaw know what I have told you. Before I 
feal’d this, I receiv’d your’s, and two waters for my fon Ro. ; he & his 
lady give you thanks, and prefent their fervice to you. I thank God, my 
fon continues, at all times, very devout, ever fince God ftruck him with a 
fenfe of his fins. He is very tender and fearful, but it does not carry him 
to defpair. He is fenfible the fatisfaftion of Chrift is his fupport; and 
relies wholly upon Chrift’s merits, for his falvation. This day has not been 
fo good a day with him, as yefterday; he has had fome faint[ing] fits. 

Letter IV. 

June 2 6. [1680.] 

I am fure, dear filter, it is your defire to hear fometime, how my poor 
weak fon does : he gives us little hopes of his life, his weaknefs increafing 
fo much. But, as his outward man decays, I thank God, his inward in- 
■creafes and ftrengthens; for he is very pious, & devout, & willing to 
refign himfelf into the arms of his Saviour, when God pleafes to take him. 

I hear, Mr. Fanfhaw reports my fon is mad; but, I thank God, he is 
far from that. I confefs for a night, & part of a day, for want of reft, he 
was a little diforder’d; but it was long fince Mr. Fanfhaw faw him. When 
he reprov’d him for his finful life, he was as well in his head, as ever he 
was in his life ; & fo he is now, I thank God. I am fure, if you heard him 
pray, you wou’d think God had infpired him with true wifdom indeed; 

( 324 ) 


* = = ' " &= - a- 

& that neither folly or madnefs comes near him. I wifh that wretch 
Fanfhaw had fo great a fenfe of fin, as my poor child has : that fo, he might 
be brought to repentance, before it is too late: but he is an ungrateful man 
to fuch a friend. 

Dear fitter, pray for us : & believe me to be, 


Your faithful friend and Servant, 

A. Rochester. 

My fon, & my daughter prefent their fervice to you; & we all thank 
you for your waters. 

Letter Y. 

July the id [1680.] 

I did, dear madam, receive your’s, dated the 28 th of June; full of kind- 
nefs, & full of Chriftianity, in your good wiflies & kindnefs to my poor 
fick fon ; who, I thank God, is yet alive : but, whether it will pleafe God 
to reftore him again out of his bed of ficknefs, none but himself knows. 
He is full of mercy and good upon all accounts : and my prayers are, that, 
whether my fon lives or dies, the Lord may be glorified in all. His con- 
verfion is mercy endlefs for us: tho’ we enjoy him not, in this world, the 
comfortable hope, that he will be a faint in Heaven, is beyond my ex- 

I cannot tell you that there is much fign of a recovery of my fon, tho’ 
his fever has left him: little heats he has ftill; which, we imagine, proceeds 
from his ulcer. But that which I like worft in him, is, he gathers no 
ftrength at all ; but his flefli wattes much, & we fear a confumption, tho’ 
his lungs are very good. He fleeps much; his head, for the moft part, is 
very well. He was this day taken up, & fet up in a chair, for an hour; 
and was not very faint, when he went to bed. He does not care to talk 
much; but, when he does, fpeaks, for the moft part, well. His expref- 
fions are fo fuddenly fpoken, that many of them are loft, & cannot be taken ; 
yet, I believe, fome part of what he has faid, will be remember’d. 

I told my fon, that I heard Mr. Fanfhaw faid, that he hop’d he wou’d 
recover, and leave thofe principles he now profefs’d. He anfwered, 
“ Wretch! I wifli I had convers’d, all my life-time with link-boys, rather 
than with him, & that crew; fuch, I mean, as Fanfhaw is. Indeed, I wou’d 
not live, to return to what I was, for all the world.” I defire the continu- 
ance of your prayers, & all the good people who has been kind, in remem- 
bering my fon in their prayers. I told him, that you pray’d for him 
heartily. He faid, . . . “ Pray thank my good aunt; and remember my 

( 3 2 5 ) 


fervice to her, & my uncle.” My daughter remembers her fervice to you. 
Dear filter, whatever becomes of me, thro’ my afflictions, I am fincerely 


Your faithful friend, and affectionate Servant, 

A. Rochester. 

For the Lady St. John at Batterfea. 

Leave this to be fent with fafety, at Mr. Dryden’s in King Street, 
at the fign of the peftle and mortar, Weftminfter, London. 

( 326 ) 




— ' l a S £ r = — 1 — 



p. 5. 
pp. 8, 9, 

p. 15. 

p. l8. 

p. 24. 

p. 26. 

P* 35* 

p. 41. 

P- 43* 

The poems from page 3 to page 55 inclusive, with one exception (The 
Epilogue to the Satire on Man: Poems on Affairs of State , 1697), 
are reprinted from Rymer’s edition of 1691, printed for Tonson. 

The Pastoral Dialogue between Alexis and Strephon was written in 
1674 and printed on a broadsheet by Benjamin Billingsley 
in 1682. 

The Advice and The Discovery were printed in Rochester’s lifetime. 
They appear anonymously, with the same title: To Celia , in two 
editions of a “ Collection of Poems” issued in 1672 and 1673 for 
Tho. Collins and Hobart Kemp respectively. 

“ Such perfect Bliss. ...” An alternative version of this poem is given 
in the Appendix, page 313. 

“Love a Woman ! you're an Ass” A fourth verse exists in a common- 
place book : 

Then give me Health, Wealth, Mirth and Wine 
And if busie Love intrenches, 

There’s a sweet soft Page of mine 

Do’s the trick worth Forty Wenches. 

“A Song to Cloris.” Some editions print a seventh verse: 

Frighted she wakes, and waking F , 

Nature thus kindly eas’d. 

In Dreams rais’d by her murmur’ ring Piggs 
And her own thumb between her Leggs, 

She’s innocent and pleased. 

The letter from Artemisa . . . was printed on an undated broadside. 

CC A Satyr against Mankind” was printed on a folio broadside in 1675. 
It was answered by Dr. Pockock, whose reply is twice printed in 
Poems on Affairs of State . 

“The Maim’d Debauchee.” A commonplace book contains an 
extra verse after verse 8 : 

Nor shall our Love-fits, Cloris, be forgot. 

When each the well-lookt Link-boy strove to enjoy; 

And the best Kiss was the deciding Lot, 

Whether the Boy us’d you, or I the Boy. 

“ On Nothing.” Pope, when a boy, wrote a poem “ On Silence,” 
in imitation of the Earl of Rochester. This is falsely attributed 
to Rochester in the 17 1 1 edition of his poems. 

( 329 ) 


p. 45, The translation of Lucretius is from the Second Book, beginning at 

line 646, and not from the First Book, as the title in this edition, 
and in subsequent reprints of it, indicates, 
p 45, 1 . 8. The Oxford text reads . . . nil indiga nostri. 

p. 46, 1 . 5. The Teubner text reads . . . movisset in Urbem. 

The authenticity of the “ Juvenilia” on pages 49, 50, 51 is doubted 
by Antony Wood, who attributes them in his Athena Oxoniensis 
to one of Rochester’s tutors at Oxford, Mr. Robert Whitehall, 
a physician, of Merton College. They were printed in Oxford 
Collections, the first in Brittania Rediviva , 1660, the other two in 
Epicedia Academia Oxoniensis in Obituris Serenis Maria Principis , 
1660. In the edition of 1691 Rochester’s name and college are 
printed under each. 

p. 50, 1 . 8. The form nequat does not exist. It should be written nequeat and 
can be pronounced as two syllables. 

p. 51. “ Some few from Wit.” . . . Epilogue to Charles D’ A venant’s tragedy, 

Circes licensed June, 1677, by Roger L’Estrange, and printed for 
Richard Tonson in the same year. 

p. 52. u Epilogue.” This is the Epilogue to Sir Francis Fane’s Love in the 

Dark . The D.N.B. attributes it to Dryden; Mr. Allardyce Nicoll 
to Fane himself. 

p. 54. The Prologue was written for the first performance at Court (1671) 

of Elkanah Settle’s Empress of Morocco . It is printed in the first 
edition of the play (1673) as the second of two Prologues, the first 
being by Lord Buckhurst. It occurs also in A Collection of Poems, 
printed for Tho. Collins, etc., 1673. 

p. 55. “ An Allusion to Horace.” From the edition of 1685, printed for A. 

Thornecombe, 44 with modifications.” The modifications are an 
attempt to restore the corrupt text of the first edition. Most versions 
print the names in full. In the 1685 edition they are absent. Here 
they are placed in round brackets to distinguish them from names 
within square brackets, which are used to denote editorial conjectures, 
p. 58. “To All Curious Criticks ...” 1685. 

p. 59. “ Consideratus Considerandus.” 1685. 

p. 60. “ On the Death of Mr. Greenhill.” 1685. 

p. 62. “ On Rome’s Pardons.” 1685. Entitled “ Lines to a Romanist ” in 

Brit. Mus. MS., Sloane 1731 A., a contemporary commonplace 
book. This poem is one of many anti-papal lampoons in the 
Roxburghe Ballads (III, 825). 

p. 62. “On the Supposed Author . . .” 1685. Cf. Explanatory Notes 

and the Answer to Rochester’s lampoon in Appendix I. 
p. 63. “ On Poet Ninny.” 1685. 

p. 64. 44 Monster All-pride.” 1 685. This poem, together with 44 To a lady 

who accused him of Inconstancy” (page 107), was printed on a 
folio sheet in 1679: 44 A very Heroical Epistle from my Lord All- 
Pride to Dot’- Common. The Argument . Dol-Common being for saken 
by my Lord All-Pride , and having written him a most lamentable 

( 33 ° ) 


p. 65. 
p. 65. 

p. 66. 
p. 66. 

p. 67 
p. 67 

p. 71 

P- 73 - 
P- 74 - 
p. 76. 

p. 81. 
p. 84. 
p. 85. 

p. 86. 

P- 95 - 

P- 95 ) 1 - 3 - 


letter [cf. Appendix, page 303. c How far are they deceived who 
hope in vain his Lordship sends her the following answer : 4 If you're 
deceived . . .’ An Epigram upon my Lord All-Pride ; £ Bursting 
with Pride . . Printed in the year 1679.” (Cf. Explanatory and 
Textual Notes.) 

“ Plain Dealing’s Downfall.” 1685. 

44 Against the Charms . . 1685. 

44 The Mock Song.” 1685. 

“The Debauchee.” 1685. 

“The Advice” 1685. 

“ The Disappointment.” 1685. The title in some editions is “ The 

“ The Imperfect Enjoyment.” 1685. The title in some editions is 
“ The Disappointment.” 

“ Actus Primus Scena Prima.” 1685. 

“ On a Juniper Tree . . .” 1685. 

Satyr: “ What Timon . . .” 1685. This was written jointly by 

the Earl of Rochester and George Villiers, 2nd Duke of Bucking- 
ham. (Cf. Vol. II [Jacob’s] Poetical Register , 1723, and Bucking- 
ham’s Works.) 

44 A Pastoral Courtship.” 1685. 

“Upon Love Fondly Refus’d.” 1685. 

44 Must I with Patience . . .” From the Miscellaneous Works of . . 
Rochester and Roscommon . . , London. Printed and sold by 
B. Bragge, 1707. 

“The Restauration.” 1707. The text has been revised from the 
separate issue of this poem in 1709, printed with Rochester’s 44 Fare- 
well,” and 44 Marvil’s Ghost” by Ayloff, by H. Hills, in the Black- 
fryers, near the Water-side. 

The poems from page 91 to page 1 16 inclusive are all reprinted from 
the edition of 1707. The text, in a few places, has been revised 
from the second edition of this collection which appeared in 1709. 

“ On the author of a play called Sodom .” Earlier editions contain these 
extra verses : 

(If Hell were bad enough) did thee inspire 
To write what Friends , a sham'd would blushing hear ? 

Hast thou of late embrac’d some Succubus , 

And us’d the lewd Familiar for a Muse ? 

Or did' st thy Soul by trick o' th ' Candle sell \ 

To gain the glorious Name of Pimp to Hell? 

p» 965 1* 

That must like Age, be whipt to Lechery. 
File Sot , who clapt with Poetry, art Sick , 

And void'st Corruption like a shanker'd Prick : 
Like Ulcers, thy Impostum'd addle Brains 
Drop out in Matter, which thy Paper stains; 

( 331 ) 


P- 965 L 3 * 
P- 99 - 

p. 101. 
p. 106. 


p. 109. 

p. XIO. 

p. 1x4. 


£5 *• 

Whence numerous rhimes by filthy births proceed ', 

As Maggots in some Turd ingen during breed • 

Thy Muse has got the Flowers, and they ascend , 

As in some Green-sick Girl, at upper end. 

Sure Nature made, or meant at least t'have don't. 

Thy Tongue Clit , and thy Mouth a C . 

How well a Dildo wou'd that place become. 

To gag it up, and make' t for ever dumb. 

At least it shou'd be Syringed, 

Or wear some stinking Merkin for a Beard, 

That all from its base converse might be scar'd. 

As they a Door shut up and mark'd beware . 

That tells Infection and the Blague is there. 

Thou Moore-Fields Author, etc. . . . 

44 The Royal Angler ” or 44 Windsor ” are alternative titles. The 
title 44 Flatfool the Gudgeon Taker ” occurs in a commonplace book 
among Lord Houghton’s MSS. 

46 Lais Senior.” The title becomes 44 Lais Junior” in the Cabinet of 
Love , Edition 1731. It appears in some editions as “ Pindarique.” 

44 The King’s Epitaph.” There are inevitably several variants of an 
epigram which was known more or less by heart by everyone in 
London. Several commonplace books suppose Rochester to have 
made it extempore at the King’s request. (Cf. Explanatory Notes.) 

44 If you're deceived ...” Ebs worth in his edition of the Roxburghe 
Ballads assigns this poem to the 44 Purblind poet,” Sir Carr Scrope. 
The answer, a most lamentable letter, is printed in the Appendix, 
and was written by Sir George Etheredge. 

44 Anacreontick.” (Cf. Explanatory Notes, page 376.) 

44 The Nature of Woman.” This is part of a much longer satire 
entitled 44 Vergil’s 4th Mantuan Eclogue.” It has never been 
attributed to Rochester in its entirety. A vindication of Woman’s 
character in answer to this satire was printed in 1679. 

44 Woman’s Usurpation.” There is an interesting problem regarding 
the text of this poem which I am unable to solve. In 1 679 appeared 
a small folio pamphlet: 44 Female Excellence or Woman displayed 
in several SATYRICK POEMS by A Person of Quality. London. 
Printed for Norman Nelson at Gray's Inn Gate in Holbourn ” ; 

(1) 44 A General Satire on Woman.” 

(2) 44 A Satire on Woman’s Usurpation.” 

(3) 44 A Satyr on Woman’s Lust.” 

(4) 44 In Praise of a Deformed, but Virtuous Lady: or a Satire 

on Beauty.” 

The second poem is an expansion of the one printed in this edition, 
but on internal evidence alone I do not think that Rochester had 
any hand in this curious collection. 

( 33 2 ) 


p. 121. 

p. 122. 
p. 126. 

p. 128. 

p. 131. 

P- 133 - 

P- I 3 +- 
P- 135 - 

P- I 37 - 
P . 138. 

p. 13 8 - 

p. 138. 
P- * 39 - 

p. 140. 

p. 141 

p. 142. 


= 1 1 ■ 

The poems from page 117 to page 121 inclusive are reprinted from 
“The Works of the Earls of Rochester, Roscommon, etc. . . . 
with an added section: The Cabinet of Love. In Two Volumes, 
adorn’d with Cuts. London. Printed in the Year 1731.” 

44 Prologue Against the Disturbers of the Pit.” Ebsworth refers to 
this poem as Colonel Aston’s Prologue. 

44 Tunbridge Wells.” From Poems on Affairs of State , 1697. 

44 The Royal Buss.” From Poems on Affairs of St at e y Part II, 1697. 
This is attributed to Rochester by the editor of the Collection. It 
is not printed in any edition of the Poems. 

46 Signior Dildoe.” From Poems on Affairs of St ate , 1703. 

44 A Trial of the Poets for the Bays.” From Poems on Affairs of State , 
1697. Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, is said to have written this 
with Lord Rochester. 

44 A Satyr against Marriage.” F rom 44 Examen Miscellaneum, consist- 
ing of Verse and Prose . . . London. Printed for B.L. and sold 
by John Chantry at the Pestle and Mortar without Temple Bar.” 

44 Since Death on all . . From Examen Miscellaneum, . 

44 Horace, Ode IV, Book I.” From The Odes of Horace , translated 
into English verse, 1705. A later edition (1717) of these trans- 
lations from Horace, printed for Tonson, attributes this poem and 
the one that follows to Lord Radcliff, a purely imaginary person. 
It is printed also in Dryden’s Miscellany . 

44 Horace, Ode IX, Book III.” From The Odes of Horace, translated 
into English verse, 1705. It is printed also in Dryden’s Miscellany 

44 1 promised Sylvia to be true.” From Examen Miscellaneum , . 

44 While in divine Panthea's charming eyes.” F rom Dryden’s Miscellany , 

44 Pity .fair Saphol one that dies.” From Dryden’s Miscellany , 1693. 

44 To chuse a friend but never marry.” From “Pinkethman’s 
Jests . . . London. Printed for T. Warner at the Black Boy in 
Pater-Noster Row.” 

44 Sylvia ne'er despise my Love.” F rom Gildon’s Miscellany : 44 London : 
Printed, and are to be Sold by Thomas Minton under the Royal- 
Exchange, Over against Pope’s Head Alley in Cornhill. 1698.” 

44 What strange Surprize to meet such Words as these.” From 44 The 
Temple of Death . . . Second Edition corrected. London. 
Printed by Tho. Warren for Francis Saunders at the Blue Anchor 
in the Lower Walk of the New Exchange. 1695-” 

44 On Marriage.” From 44 The Remains of the Rt. Hon. J. E. of R. 
Never before published. F rom a Manuscript found in a gentleman’s 
Library that was Contemporary with him. London. Printed for 
Tho. Dryar, 1 7 1 8.” This edition, like that of the year 1761, must 
be regarded with great suspicion. The manuscript 44 discover’d in 
a gentleman’s library ” was probably that which belongs now to the 
British Museum: Harleian: 6913 and 6914. 44 On Marriage” 
is popular in commonplace books of the period. With a different 

( 333 ) 

p. 142. 

P- I 43 - 

p. 147. 


■ 03? 11 ; - — ; s* 

tide, 44 Contra Conjugium,” it is included in MS. Add. A. 301 at 
the Bodleian Library. 

44 The Platonick Lady.” F rom a commonplace book at Oxford : Bod- 
leian MSS. Add. 301, fol. 24. I am not aware that this poem 
has been printed before; 

44 Satyr against K. Charles.” F rom a commonplace book at the British 
Museum. Add. MSS. 34109, fol. 2. This poem is usually 
attributed to Andrew Marvell. 

The poems from page 143 to page 147 are from the 1761 edition 
(cf. note as to Text of Poems, page xll). All of them are included 
in the important contemporary manuscript collections: B.M. Har- 
leian 6913 and 6914, and are to be found, attributed to Rochester, 
in many commonplace books. 

44 Rochester’s Farewell.” The value of this poem as an Epilogue to 
Rochester’s writings has persuaded me to place it at the end. It 
is reprinted from the 1697 edition of Poems on Affairs of State. 


V alentinian 

p. 165. The following Prologues appear in the 1685 quarto. 


Written by M rs. Behn . 

With that affurance we to day addrefs , 

As ftandard Beauties , certain of Succefs. 

With carelefs Pride at once they charm and vex, 

And f corn the little Cenfures of their Sex . 

Sure of the unregarded Spoyl , defpife 
The needlefs Affeftation of the Eyes, 

The foftening Langui fhment that faintly warms. 

But truft alone to their refifilefs Charms . 

So we, fecur'd by undifputed Wit, 

Difdain the damning Malice of the Pit, 

Nor need falfe Arts to fet great Nature of, 

Or Jludied Tricks to force the Clap and Laugh . 

Te Wou' d-be-Criticks, you are all undone. 

For here's no Theam for you to work upon . 

Faith feem to talk to Jenny, I advife. 

Of who likes who, and how Loves Markets rife . 

Try thefe hard Times how to abate the Price ; 

Tell her how cheap were Damfels on the Ice ; 

' Mongfi City-Wives , and Daughters that came there, 
How far a Guinny went at Blanket-Fair. 

Thw you may find fome good Excufe for failing 
Of your beloved Exercife of Failing. 

That when Friend cryes — How did the Play fucceed ? 
Demme , I hardly minded what they did \ 

We fhall not your Ill-nature pleafe to day. 

With fome fond Scribler's new uncertain Play, 

Loofe as vain Youth, and tedious as dull Age, 

Or Love and Honour that 0 re-runs the Stage . 

Fam'd and fubftantial Authors give this Treat, 

And 'twill be Solemn, Noble all and Great . 

( 335 > 


■ - sS? i - 

Wit, J acred Wit, is all the bus’nefs here. 

Great Fletcher, and the Greater Rochefter. 

Now name the hardy Man one fault dares find. 

In the vajl Work of two fuch Heroes joyn’d. 

None but Great StrephonV foft and powerful Wit 
Durfi undertake to mend what Fletcher writ. 

Different their heav’nly Notes ; yet both agree 
To make an ever la fling Harmony. 

Liflen ye Virgins to his charming Song, 

. Eternal Mufick dwelt upon his Tongue. 

The Gods of Love and Wit infpir'd his Ten, 

And Love and Beauty was his glorious Theam. 

Now Ladies you may celebrate his Name, 

Without a fcandal on your fpotlefs Fame. 

With Praife his dear lov'd Memory purfue, 

And pay his Death, what to his Life was due. 


To be fpoken by Mr.f. Barry. 

Now would you have me rail, fwell, and look big, 
Like rampant Tory over couchant Whig, 

As f pit-fire Bullies fw agger, fwear, and roar. 
And brandi fh Bilbo, when the Fray is o' re ? 

Muff we huff on when we're oppos’d by none ? 
But Poets are moft fierce on thofe wh'are down. 
Shall I jeer Popifh Plots that once did fright us. 
And with mofl bitter Bobs taunt little Titus ? 

Or with fharp Style , on fneaking Trimmers fall. 
Who civilly them] elves Prudential call? 

Tet Witlings to true Wits as foon may rife, 

As a prudential Man can ere be wife. 

No, even the worft of all yet I will fpare, 

The naufeous Floater, changeable as Air, 

A nafiy thing, which on the furface rides, 
Backward and forward with all turns of Tides. 
An Audience I will not fo courfely ufe ; 

'Tie the lewd way of every common Mufe. 

( 336 ) 


& — 

Let Grubftreet-P^iW juch mean Diverfion find. 

But we have Subjefts of a nobler kind. 

We of legitimate Poets fing the praife , 

No kin to th' f furious IJfue of thefe days. 

But fuch as with defert their Laurels gain'd , 

And by true Wit immortal Names obtain'd. 

Two like 7Pz7-ConfuIs rul'd the former Age, 

With Love , and Honour grac'd that flourishing Stage , 
And t' every Paffion did the Mind engage. 

They fweetnefs firfl into our Language brought ', 

They all the Secrets of man's Nature fought , 

And lafling Wonders they have in conjunction wrought. 

Now joyns a thirds a Genius as fublime 
As ever flourifh'd in Rome’* happieft time. 

As fharply could he wound , as fweetly engage , 

As f oft his Love , and as divine his Rage. 

He charm'd the tendereft Virgins to delight , 

And with his Style did fierceft Blockheads fright. 

Some Beauties here I fee — 

Though now demure , have felt his pow'rful Charms , 
And languifh'd in the circle of his Arms. 

But for ye Fops , his Satyr reach! d ye all , 

Under his La fh your whole vaft Herd did fall. 

Oh fatal lofs ! that mighty Spirit's gone ! 

Alas! his too great heat went out too foon! 

So fatal is it vaftly to excel; 

Thus young, thus mourn'd, his lov'd Lucretius fell. 

And now ye little Sparks who inf eft the Pit, 

Learn all the Reverence due to f acred Wit. 

Difturb not with your empty noife each Bench, 

Nor break your bawdy Jefts to th' Orange-wench; 
Nor in that Scene of Fops, the Gallery, 

Vent your No-whit, and fpurious Raillery: 

That noifie Place, where meet all fort of Tools, 

Tour huge fat Lovers, and confumptive Fools, 

Half Wits, and Gamefters, and gay Fops, whofe Tasks 
Are daily to invade the dangerous Masks ; 

And all ye little Brood of Poetafters , 

Amend and learn to write from thefe your Maflers. 


( 337 ) 

■' - •• • -S 3 » 



Spoken by Mw. Cook the fecond Day. 

’Tis not your eafinefs to give Applaufe , 

This long hid Jewel into publick draws. 

Our matchlefs Author , who to Wit gave Rules , 
Scorns Praife , that has been pro ftitute to Fool:. 

To fabliaus Favour , the foie Prop and Fence 
Of Hackney-Scriblers, he quits all Pretence, 

And for their Flatteries brings you Truth and Sence. 
Things we our f elves confefs to be unfit 
For fuch fide- Boxes, and for fuch a Pit. 

To the fair Sex fome Complement were due. 

Lid they not flight them] elves in liking you ; 

How can they here for Judges be thought fit. 

Who daily your foft Nonfence take for Wit ; 

Do on your ill-bred Noife for Humour do at. 

And choofe the Man by the embroider'd Coat ? 

Our Author lov'd the youthful and the fair, 

But even in thofe their Follies could not fpare ; 

Bid them difcreetly ufe their prefent flore. 

Be Friends to Pleafure, when they pleafe no more ; 
Defir' d the Ladies of maturer Ages, 

If fome remaining Spark their Hearts enrages, 

At home to quench their Embers with their Pages. 
Pert, patch'd, and painted, there to fpend their days ; 
Not crowd the fronts of Boxes at new Plays ; 

Advis'd young fighing Fools to be more prejjing. 

And Fops of Forty to give over dreffing. 

By this he got the Envy of the Age , 

No Fury’s like a libel! d Blockhead's Rage. 

Hence fome defpis’ d him for his want of Wit, 

And others faid he too obfcenely writ. 

Dull Nicenefs, envious of Mankind's Delight, 
Abortive Pang of Vanity and Spite ! 

It fhows a Mafler's Hand — 'twas VirgilV Praife, 
Things low and abjeft to adorn and raife. 

The Sun on Dunghill fhining is as bright. 

As when his Beams the fair eft Flowers invite, 

But all weak Eyes are hurt by too much Light. 

( 338 ) 


Let then thefe Owls againfl the Eagle preachy 

And blame thoje Flights which they want Wing to reach. 

Like Falftaffe let 'em conquer Heroes dead \ 

And praife Greek Poets they cou' d never read. 

Criticks fhould perjonal parrels lay a fide , 

The Poet from the Enemy divide. 

’Twas Charity that made our Author write , 

For your Inftrudion 'tis we Ad to night ; 

For ure no Age was ever known before , 

W nting an iEcius and Lucina more. 

( 339 ) 

C£ g 


p. 165, 1. 8. 
p. 1 66,1. 13. 
p. 166, 1. 17. 
p. 166, 1. 20. 
p. 166, 1. 28. 
p. 166, 1. 30. 
p. 166, 1. 37. 

p. 167, 1. 3. 
p. 167, 1. 8. 
p. 167, 1. 16. 

p. 168, 1. 26. 
p. 169, 1. 7. 
p. 169, 1. 16. 
P- 170,1. 3 i- 

p. 170, 1. 40. 

P- 17 ^ 1 *5 
p. 17 1, 1. 16 
P- i 7 ijl. 33 
P- i 7 i,l. 39 
p. 172,1. 16 

p. 172, 1. 26. 
P- 172* I* 33 - 
p. 172,1. 24. 
p. 174, 1. 6. 



Hour . MS. reads: “ Bower.” 
foul. MS. reads : “ fowle.” 

Traitors . MS. reads: “Wenches.” 
rugged. MS. reads : “ ragged.” 
can . Omitted in MS. 

MS. reads: “ Until unhallowed Hands defile their Offerings.” 

. . . and not enquir'd into. At the end of this speech the manuscript 
adds the following lines : 

“ Whilst Gods and Angells 
Make but a Rule as we do though strickter 
Like desperate and unseason’d fools let fly 
Our killing Angers, and forsake our honours.” 

followers. MS. reads: “fellows.” 

Give me leave. MS. reads : “ Good, give me leave.” 

MS. reads: 

“ Stampt in the Dangers of a thousand Battels 
For goodness sake their Honours Time outdaring 
I think for our Example ? ” 

MS. reads: “ Mistake me not dearest iEcius.” 

Service . MS. reads : “ Services.” 

An Emperour . MS. reads: “ the Emperor.” 

. . . Partner by the Gods ? MS. adds : 

“ Each Man, each Beast, even to the smallest fly 
No Mortall Creature dare call his but I.” 

MS. reads: “ Beneath the Scepter, grasp’d in this strong hand.” 

The copyist has converted my Scepter into the Scepter . 
least. MS. reads: “lest.” 

Error . MS. reads: “Errors.” 

succour. MS. reads : “ succours.” 

hope to find. MS. reads: “ looke to find.” 

Exit Lucina. There are four lines added to Valentinian’s speech in 
the MS.: 

“ None in my world shall dare to owne a Power 
That cant or will not help their Emperour 
Incense- no longer to those Gods shall burne 
Unless they strive to serve me in their turne. 

Ho Chylax, Proculus ? ” 

Idleness or loose Desire. MS. reads: “ Idleness and loose Desire.” 

In vain I fly. MS. reads: “ in vain I’d fly.” 

Praises. MS. reads : “ Praise.” 

They'd censure. MS. reads: “ They would censure ” 

( 34 ° ) 


p. 174, 1. 16. Rampires. MS. reads: 44 rampiers.” 

P* 1 - 18. I believe ’em. MS. reads: 44 I believe ’m.” 
p. 174, 1 . 23. Were at their throats . MS. reads: 44 were in their throats.” 
p. 174, 1. 25. Fidling. MS. reads: “fencing.” 
p. 175, 1 . 18. Bring ’em near. MS. reads: 46 bring ’em on.” 
p. 175, 1. 21. show’rs of Arrows. MS. omits “of.” 
p. 175, 1. 25. these Scars . MS. reads: 44 those Scars.” 
p. 175, 1. 27. loading Labours. MS. reads: 44 loving Labours.” 
p. 175, 1 . 40. Why do you hear these things. 44 these ” has been added to the manu- 
script in a different hand. 

p. 176, 1 . 23. My Armor . MS. reads: 44 mine armour.” 
p. 176, 1 . 24. Throu ’ Seas. MS. reads “The Seas.” 
p. 176, 1 . 43. vigilant. MS. reads: 44 violent.” 

Scene i 

In the manuscript, Scenes 1 and 2 of the 1685 quarto are transposed. The scene 
of Lucina’s temptation by the lewd Women of the court was probably intended to 
precede the scene in which Balbus, Proculus, etc., discuss their failure in a similar 
attempt. The force of Lycinius’ remark and Chylax’s answer: 

Lycin. If the Women should chance to fail too 

Chy. As ’tis ten to one. 

is increased by our knowing that the women have already failed. But the importance 
on the stage of the reappearance of Balbus and his fellows soon after their interview 
with the Emperour is responsible for this change. 

p. 177, 1 . 24. Nor ever shall. MS. reads: 44 nor ere shall.” 

p. 178, 1. 14. Council. MS. reads: 44 counsell.” 

p. 178, 1 . 16. President. MS. reads: 44 Presedent.” 

p. 178, 1. 28. spleen. MS. reads: “speen.” 

p. 178, 1. 33. 1 never knew that way fail: yet I tell you. MS. reads: 44 . . . way 

fail yet: I tell you.” 

p. 179, 1 . 3. a Mortal. MS. reads: 44 for mortal.” 
p. 179, 1. 6. MS. reads: 

44 That stands condemn’d, his Judgement, let me perish 
But, if there can be Virtue, if that name ■” 

p. 179, 1 . 10. Death. MS. reads: 44 Ashes.” 

p. 179, 1. 22. MS. reads: 44 If she were fat or any way inclining.” 

p. 180, 1 . 10. purpose. MS. reads: 44 purchase.” 

p. 180, 1 . 20. MS. reads: 44 To fawn on him, and bark at all besides 

True to the Budget beyond all Temptation.” 

p. 1 8 1, 1 . 4. Jayls and Whips. MS. reads: 44 Whips and Jayls.” 

( 341 ) 


« . — = - o - = ' i - 

p. 1 8 1, 1 . 15. A Virtue that adds Fury to my Flames . MS. reads: 44 Which adds 
this flaming fury to my Fire.” 

The whole of Chylax’s speech from ’Tis a soft Rogue ... ( 1 . 36) to the end of the 
scene is ruled out in the manuscript. This is the work of a later hand erasing in 
the interests of propriety. 

Scene 2 

p. 182, 1. 17. 
p. 182, 1. 19. 
p. 184, 1. 28. 
p. 184, 1. 29. 
p. 184,1. 31. 

p. 185,1. 30. 
p. 185,1. 37. 
p. 186, 1. 22. 

smoaking. MS. reads: 44 smoaky.” 

blooming Beauty . MS. reads: “blessed Beauty.” 

. . . these are twice doubled . MS. reads : 44 this is quite doubled.” 
MS. reads: “ Her Tartness unto us too.” 

MS. reads: 44 I rarely like, it shews a rising Wisdom, 

That chides all common Fools as dare enquire.” 

Virtue . MS. reads: 44 Vertues.” 

MS. reads: “The Hopes, Gifts, and everlasting Flatteries.” 

MS. reads: 44 Should have a longing now to see this Monster.” 


The first two scenes of the third act are also interchanged. The printed text is 
obviously the most satisfactory. At the end of Act II Lucina is on the stage. The 
manuscript text would bring her before the audience too suddenly and in too different 
circumstances. At the same time this transposition would make the work of the 
machinist far less complicated with one less shift. (Cf. Times Lit . Sup.^ January 13th, 
1921.) The interest quickens when Maximus is discovered gaging his ring to the 
Emperor; the tragedy darkens in the second scene, where Lucina is discover’d in the 
solitary grove. 

p. 187, 1. 4. MS. reads: 44 . . . and staying will be tedious, besides.” 
p. 187, 1. 6. MS. reads: 44 Shall we redeem ’em if we set our Houses? 

For by Heaven, Sir, no Tavern will receive us.” 

p. 187, L 22. 
p. 188, 1. 9. 
p. 189. 
p. 190, 1. 1. 
p. 190. 

0 Good Sir . MS, reads: 44 O God Sir.” 

de’e. MS. reads: 44 d’ye.” 

Enter Marcellina . MS. reads : 44 Enter Lycias.” 

Go Marcellina . MS. reads: 44 Lycias.” 

Marcellina sings . MS. reads : 44 Lycias sings.” Lycias, the eunuch, 
is the singer according to the manuscript. At the actual performance 
there was possibly some difficulty in obtaining a castrato, which 
accounts for the substitution of a female singer (Marcellina) for a 

The song by Mr. W(ol$eley) is omitted in the manuscript. The 
absence of songs in the manuscript may be explained in two ways; 
either that Rochester died before he had time to choose them, or 

( 342 ) 


that it was left to the actors themselves to choose a song that suited 
them. MS. adds: “ The song ended Speakes. Lycias: 

“ She sleeps. 

Now to the flatt’ring Prospect of my Hopes; 

The messenger that came to fetch my Lord 
Has brought me here a note from Proculus — 

Lett’s read a little ■” 

{Reads letter .] 

“ Lycias thou art the most fortunate of men, riches and honours 
come upon thee full sayle — what can determine thy Glory and 
greatness (?) The Emperour Loves thee, Longs for thy company, 
will delight in thee and trust thee, what an opportunity hast thou 
to destroy thy enemyes, delude thy friends, enrich thy self, enslave 
the World, raise thy kindred. Humble thy Master and Goveme him; 
he expects Thee about the ev’ning in his Closet: faile not, and re- 
remember poore Chylax who allwayes lov’d and honour’d thee, 
though till this hour itt was his misfortune never to let thee know 
itt. Farewell ! ! 

, This is a Summons to Prosperity 
And if I stop or falter at the meanes 
Or think they can bee vile and infamous — 

Bee what they will that may my fortunes rouse, 

On Vesta’s Altar for some Lambe or Calfe 
May I bee burnt — a senseless Sacrifice (!) 

Time hurries on, lest, therefore, dull delay 
Should blast my springing hopes. I’ll haste away.” 

(. Exeunt Claudia and Lycias.) 

Scene 3 

MS. omits “ Dance of Satyrs.” But in Tate’s Miscellany for the year 1685 there 
is a piece by Sir Francis Fane entitled “ A mask made at the Request of the late Earl 
of Rochester for the Tragedy of Valentinian.” This is evidently the Masque referred 
to in the manuscript It is reprinted in an Appendix on page 315 of this edition, 
p. 191,1. 12. Desires . MS. reads: “Desire.” 
p. 19 1, 1 . 24. a-fire. MS. reads: “ on fire.” 
p. 101, 1 . 37. Cause to fear. MS. reads: “cause of fear.” 
p. 191, 1 . 38. While. MS. reads: “ Whilst.” 
p. 192, 1 . 6. It fits. MS. reads: “ It fills.” 
p. 192, 1 . 15. with Pride. MS. reads: “ in Pride.” 
p. 192, 1 . 23. it please. MS. reads: “ it pleases.” 
p. 192,1. 24. satisfie. MS. reads: “Justifie.” 
p. 192. Lucina wakes. MS. reads: “enter Lucina.” 

p. 192, 1 . 25. But see my Lady wakes and comes this way. MS. reads: “ But see 
my Lady guides her steps this way.” 
in iK absence. MS. reads : “ i’ th’ absence.” 

A Ring. A prompter’s note. Omitted in MS. 

( 343 ) 

P . 193, 1. 22. 

p- 193- 


p. 193, L 31. Grave Senators to Council in the Hall. MS. reads: “ Grave Senators 
to Council: In the Hall.” 
p. 194,1. 7. Hero's. MS. reads: “Heroes.” 
p. 194, 1. 35. By following. MS. reads: “ That following.” 
p. 196. Scene 4. MS. reads: “Act IV.” This was probably a prompter’s 

error. The next scene reads correctly: Act IV. Scene II. 
p. 196, 1 . 12. Seeds of Rank. MS. omits, 
p. 196, 1 . 16. 1 am true. MS. reads: “ I am true-hearted.” 

p. 196, 1 . 31. made-up. MS. omits. 

p. 197, 1 . 12. ( Hold back my Honesty!). MS. reads: “ Hold back my Honesty.” 

p. 197, 1 . 38. with peace. MS. reads: “with care.” 

p. 197, L 42. 1 blam'd him too for softness. MS. reads: “ I blam’d too for softness.” 

MS. adds: “ Pont. And like enough I blest him then as Souldiers 
Will doe sometimes, ’tis true I told ’em too,” etc. 

p. 198, 1 . 1. I told 'em too. MS. reads: “ I told this too that.” 
p. 198, 1 . 6. Were our best Pay-masters. MS. then adds: 

“ The Charity 

Of longing Women who had bought our bodies 
Our beds, fires, Valerin Nurses,” etc. 

p. 198, 1 . 8. their sure. MS. reads: “ your sure.” 

p. 198, 1 . 10. their warlike . MS. reads: “ for these their warlike.” 

p. 198, 1 . 4. Daws and Starlings . MS. then adds: 

“ To give an ( 'indecipherable word) Caesar as hee passes 
And be rewarded with a thousand Dragmas. 

For thus we got only Old Age and Roots.” 

p. 198, 1. 17. their daring steel. MS. reads: “ your daring steel.” 
p. 198, 1. 20. find me. MS. reads: “ hold me.” 
p. 198, 1 . 34. my Love. MS. omits “ my.” 

p. 198, 1 . 35. restor'd in camp . MS. reads: “ restor’d in my camp.” 

p. 199. Act IV. Scene 11 . MS. reads: “ Scene II.” 

p. 199, 1 . 14. And do you here Lycinius . MS. reads: “ And do you hear Lycinius.” 

p. 199, 1. 19. in a Sweat. MS. reads: “ in sweat.” 

p. 199,1. 27. sudden. MS. reads: “suddenly.” 

p. 200, 1 . 3. They' l break. MS. reads: “ They’d break.” 

p. 200, 1. 22. The fair Lucina . MS. reads: “ The fair Lucina here.” 

p. 200,1. 29. Command. MS. reads: “ Commands.” 

p. 201, 1. 1. here. MS. omits. 

p. 201, 1 . 5. fleshy on't. MS. then adds: 

“ Glaudi . You think great blessings attend on Sin. 

Marc. The soft Sins of ye flesh give good content 
And that’s a Blessing in my poor opinion 
Of other kinde of Sins I have little use 
And therefore I abhore ’em. 

Claudi. A hopefull Girle 

I would my Lady heard youj 
Lucin. But is my Lord,” etc. 

( 344 ) 


**" — — 

p. 201, L 20. 

p. 201. 

p. 202,1. 13. 
p. 202, 1. 24. 
p. 203, 1. 12. 
p. 203, 1. 15. 
p. 203, 1. 16. 
p. 203, 1. 24. 
p. 203, 1. 39. 
p. 204, 1. 3. 
p. 204. 
p. 204, 1. 10. 
p. 205, 1. 6. 

p. 205, 1. 9. 
p. 205, 1. 29. 
p. 206, 1. 3. 
p. 206, 1. 14. 
p. 206. 

p. 207, 1. 1. 
p. 207, 1. 8. 
p. 207, 1. 16. 
p. 207, 1. 19. 
p. 207, 1. 21. 

p. 207, 1. 24. 
p. 208, 1. 2. 
p. 208, 1. 19. 
p. 208, 1. 30. 
p. 208, 1. 33. 
p. 208, 1. 35. 
p. 209, 1. 3. 



finds me . MS. reads : “ find me.” 

The song is omitted in MS, ( The Songs) is written before: Enter 
Chyl , etc. 

Lucin. MS. adds: “ Claudia,” as speaker. 

Song. . MS. reads: “Songs.” 
welcome. MS. reads: “well come.” 

I had never. MS. reads: “ I’d never.” 

Call Emperor behind. A prompter’s memorandum omitted in MS. 
Welly this gown. MS. reads: “ What, this gown.” 

You come not . MS. reads: “ You came not.” 

Warning. MS. reads: “Warming.” 

Ring. A prompter’s note. Omitted in MS. 

Amaze. MS. reads : “ a maze.” 

When you believe me worthy , make me happy. MS. reads: “ you make 
me happy.” 

Ah cursed Boy! MS. reads: “ a cursed Boy ! ” 

MS. reads : “ And if (by chance) odd noise should be heard.” 

Fever . MS. reads: “favour.” 
prefer thee . MS. omits “ thee.” 

The Ten dance of the printed text is obviously a misprint for “ The 
dance ” or “ They dance.” 

Lycin. How? MS. reads: “ Lycin. Ho?” 
of our Trade. MS. reads: “ O’ th 5 Trade.” 

Mystery. MS. reads: “misery.” 
opportunities : MS. reads : “ opportunity.” 

After Beds of Snow MS. adds : 

“ Fie melt a Diamond 
And make a dead Flint fire himself ere they 
Give greater heat than new departing Embers 
Affords old men that watch ’em.” 

of too . MS. reads : “ off.” 
bitter. MS. reads: “killer.” 
prevails. MS. reads: “ prevaileth.” 

Can there be a Love. MS. reads: “ can there be Love.” 

Villainy. MS. reads: “ Viles ” 
safeties sake. MS. reads : “ safety sake.” 

Types of Justice. MS. then adds : 

“ These fires that ever burn — to beg your Blessing 
The People’s adoration — Feare of Nations 
What victory can bring you home. What 
Else ye usefull elements can make your servants 
Ev’n Light it selfe and sun of Light, Truth, 

Justice, Mercy, and starrlike Piety sent to you 
And from the Gods themselves,” etc. 

MS. reads: “ their Noble Maids ravisht.” 

( 345 ) 

p. 209, L 6. 

■g '.'f — 1 'JL!J 

p.209,1. 7. 
p. 209, 1. 10. 

p. 209, 1. 26. 

p. 209, 1. 29. 
p. 209, 1. 34. 
p. 20g, 1. 34. 

p. 210, 1. I. 

p. 210, 1. 9. 
p. 210, 1. 14. 

p. 210, 1. 35. 
p. 210, 1. 40. 

p. 21 1, 1. I. 
p. 21 1, 1. 20. 
p. 21 1, 1. 22. 

p. 21 1, 1. 27. 
p. 21 1, 1. 36. 
p. 211,1. 39. 
p. 21 1, 1. 41. 
p. 21 1, 1. 42. 
p. 21 1, 1. 43. 

p. 212, 1. 3. 
p. 212, L 6. 

p. 212, 1. II. 
p. 212, 1. 14. 
p. 212, 1. 30. 
p. 213,1. 23. 

p. 213,1. 34. 
p. 214, 1. ii. 

p. 214, 1. 22. 


= & ■ » 

made more . MS. reads: “ many more.” 

MS. reads: “ and where there has been a chast Wife been abus’d.” 
do me right . MS. reads : “ hold me right.” 

I choose . MS. reads: “ you choose.” 

the Altars . MS. reads : “ his Altars.” 

he the greatest . MS. reads : “ be they greatest.” 

Yet wear they . MS. reads : “Yet were they.” 

MS. adds: “ Waiting without, they have been diverted too 
But are more thankfull for’t.” 

MS. adds: 

“ . . . desire to be so 

Must not endure me, not a neighbour know mee 
What woman now dare see mee without blushes 
And pointing as I passe — there, there, behold her 
Look on her Little Children y* is shee 
The ravisht woman mark ! oh my sad Fortune 
Is this the end of Goodness ? ” etc. 

drooping. MS. reads: “dropping.” 
have undone. MS. omits. 

Thus pleas 9 d. MS. reads: “ T’has pleas’d.” 

Ye equal Gods. MS. reads: “ the equal Gods.” 
among. MS. reads: “amongst.” * 

MS. reads: “ Long farewell Sir ! ” 

MS. omits way . 

MS. omits still . 

MS. omits same . 

MS. omits me. 

MS. reads: “Only I’d have you live a little longer. But a short 

Lucin . Alas Sir ! Why so long, 

Am I not wretched enough already with griefe ? ” 

wild. MS. reads: “milde.” 

ever coming. MS. reads: “ ever becoming.” 

Wrongs . MS. reads: “Wrong.” 
by violence . MS. reads : “ with violence.” 
baleful. MS. reads: “ Beautifull.” 

MS. reads : “ By Heav’n I dare do nothing. A Pandar is a Prince 
to what I’ve fall’n to.” 

MS. reads: “ O would to God you were not living.” 

MS. reads: 

“ Is a Wifes loss — (For abuse much good may do his heart 
I’le make as good with his Wife if I can).” 

MS. reads: 

“ If my Wife for all this should be a Whore now 
A kind of kicker out of sheets 
’Twould vex me.” 


*gr"" SB* 

p. 214, 1. 34. 
p. 215, 1- 7- 

p. 215, 1. l8. 
p. 215, 1. 20. 

P . 215, 1. 25. 
p. 215, L 32. 
p. 2i 5, 1. 42. 
p. 216, 1. 7. 

p. 216, 1. 22. 

p. 216, 1. 32. 
p. 217. 

P- 21 7, 1 . 4. 
p. 218, L 38. 
p. 219, 1. 24. 
p. 219, 1. 32. 
p. 220, 1. 6. 
p. 220, L 17. 
p. 220, L 19. 

p. 220, 1. 42. 
p. 220, 1. 43. 
p. 221, L 4. 
p. 221,1. 13. 
p. 221, 1. 24. 
p. 221, L 27. 

p. 221. 
p. 222, L 18. 
p. 222, L 23. 


= = = — =“* 5 3 ?"” 1 1 1 ==> 

to rise. MS. reads: “ to rise by.” 

In the MS. Maximus’ speech from: Bear me cold Earth ... to the 
revenge I owe . is divided into seven five-lined stanzas rhyming 
a b a b b. 

The seventh stanza is incomplete in the quarto. MS. reads *. 

44 Base note in which my Just resentment Cloggs 
With ye Fantastique awe of Prince and Slave 
Fie ripp him up and through his heart to th’ Doggs 
Not all his Power shall the wild Monster save: 

Him and my shame I’le tread into one Grave.” 

does. MS. reads: 44 much.” 
as good. MS. reads : 44 soe good.” 

Despair and Shame. MS. reads: 44 Despair nor Shame.” 
on Heav'n. MS. reads: 44 ’gainst Heav’n.” 
which may. MS. reads: 44 Y t may.” 

MS. reads: 

44 Into her House, after a world of weeping 
And blushing, like the Sun-set as we see her.” 

MS. adds: 

44 . . . rushed abroad 
Nature in ye last minute seem’d undone. 

And Beauti’s magazine Blown up and gone 
Such Brightness did through dying features dash 
Like burning ship extinguisht in a flash.” 

Grief. MS. reads: 44 Griefes” 

MS. omits 44 A Letter.” A Prompter’s note. 
may. MS. reads: 44 might.” 

Will prove. MS. reads : 44 We’ll prove.” 

MS. reads: 44 Then thus have I given my Pleasures to destruction.” 
MS. reads : 44 The World is my creature.” 
dead. MS. omits. 

hope or dream. MS. reads : 44 hope nor dream.” 

MS. reads: 44 Get your own Infamy hereafter Rascals; 

I have done too Nobly for yee: yee enjoy,” etc. 

and am 1 . MS. omits 44 and.” 

And was there but one . MS. omits 44 was there.” 

MS. reads: 44 this dearest Beauty.” 

MS. reads: 64 Caesar’s hand.” 

Slave ! MS. reads: 44 poor Slave ! ” 

MS. reads : 44 The name of this Mcius and of Maximus 
Runnes thro’ me. . . .” 

Letter. He reads. MS. omits: 44 He reads.” 
MS. reads: 44 The Earth would swallow him.” 
kill the Devil. MS. reads: 44 kiss the Devil.” 

( 347 ) 

<'.! n, , ■ ■ BBSS 
p. 224- 

p. 224, 1. 20. 

p. 224, L 35. 
p. 225, 1. 8. 

p. 225,1. 19. 
p. 226, 1. 2. 
p. 226, 1. 16. 
p. 226, 1. 18. 
p. 226, 1. 28. 
p. 226, 1. 42. 
p. 227, 1. 19. 
p. 227, 1. 32. 
p. 228, 1. 15. 
p. 228. 
p. 229, 1. 1. 
p. 229, 1. 35. 
p. 230, 1. 23. 
P- 230, 1 . 33. 
p. 230, 1. 35. 
p. 230, 1. 36. 
p. 230, 1. 40. 

p.231,1. 5. 
p. 231. 1. 6. 
p.231,1. 9. 
P- 231, 1 - 19- 
p. 231, 1. 28. 
p. 231, 1. 33. 
p. 232. 

p. 233, 1. 30. 
p. 234, 1. 2. 
p.234,1. 6. 

p. 234. 

P- 234, 1 . 9. 
P- 235, 1 . 39 - 
p. 236, 1. 11. 
P- 236,1. 13. 
p. 236, 1. 28. 
p. 237,1. 11. 
P- 237, 1 . 14 

===== = 

MS. omits prompter’s note ( Aretus here). At this point Aretus was 
meant to be eavesdropping. 
to be a Traitor . MS. reads: “ to be Traitor.” 
must fall too ? MS. reads: “ must faile too ? ” 

MS. reads: “ . . . see your Sword out, and know why, 

Must follow your Adventure.” 

Fools . MS. reads: “ the Foole.” 

poor Body . poor has been inserted by a different hand in MS. 

MS. reads: “ Live till your honesties, (as mine has done). . . .” 
You’l. MS. reads: 44 Yee.” 

MS. reads : “ so much of this wet weakness.” 

Old Mcius . MS. omits “ Old.” 

For the brave Mcius . MS. reads: “ For brave Mcius .” 

MS. reads : “ Come ye not now from Ccesar to that end ? ” 

MS. reads: “ base and cowardly Companions.” 

MS. reads: “ Exeunt Chil. and Balb.” 

MS. reads: “ as thou were a Soldier.” 

And for I see . MS. omits “ And.” 

Rank. MS. reads: “ranks.” 
no regard. MS. reads: “ not regard.” 
eats. MS. reads : “ eate.” 
hours. MS. reads: “honours.” 

MS. reads: “ To slaken Flattery, and plain’d over, 

Forgetting with what Wind their feathers fail’d.” 

and I lost it. MS. reads : “ yet I lost it.” 

MS. reads : “ This is the end I dye for Sir.” 
that is good. MS. reads: “ what is good.” 
displeasing to you. MS. reads : “ displeasing you.” 

MS. reads: “ such a Dying.” 

Pleasures. MS. reads: “Pleasure.” 

MS. reads: “ Valentinian and the Eunuch.” MSS. then omits the 
Emperors opening speech to Lycias and the song, “ Kindness hath 
resistless Charms.” 

thy Soul. MS. reads: “ the Soul.” 
and Fear. MS. reads : “ of F ear.” 

MS. reads: “ To drive this raving Fool headlong to Hell 
And pacify the ghost of my deare Boy ! ” 

Stage directions in MS. : “ (Throws him a Sword. Fight.) ” 

MS. reads: “ Give me true Repentance.” 

Kisses of Fame. MS. reads: “ Kisses Fame.” 

in so long descents. MS. reads : “ for so long descents.” 

If still the Great. MS. reads: “ If Y* the Great.” 

MS. reads: “ Lucrece was not his Wife as thou wart.” 
act of Justice. MS. reads: “ effect of Justice.” 

Continuance. MS. reads: “Contrivance.” 

( 348 ) 



p. 238. The following Epilogue, to be spoken by Lucina, appears in the 1685 


Written by a Perfon of Quality. 

Tis well the Scene is laid remote from hence, 

’T would bring in quejlion elje our Author's fence. 
Two monflrous things, produc’d for this our Age, 
And no where to be feen but on the Stage : 

A Woman ravifht, and a Great man wife. 

Nay honefl too, without the leaft difguife. 

Another Character deferves great blame, 

A Cuckold daring to revenge his fhame. 

Surly, ill-natur'd Roman, wanting wit, 

Angry when all true Englishmen /a&wrV/ 

Witnefs the Horns of the well-headed Pit. 

Tell me ye fair ones, pray now tell me, why 
For fuch a fault as this to bid me dye ? 

Should Husbands thus command, and Wives obey, 
’T would fpoil our Audience for the next new Play, 
Too many wanting who are here to day. 

For I fuppofe if ere that hapned to yee , 

’Twos force prevailed, yee faid he would undo yee. 
Struggling, cried out , but all alas in vain. 

Like me yee underwent the killing pain. 

Did you not pity me, lament each groan. 

When left with the wild Emperor alone ? 

I know in thought yee kindly bore a part, 

Each had her Valentinian in her heart. 

( 349 ) 


Notes on Appendices 

p. 303. How far are they deceived who hope in vain . This is the answer to the 

poem entitled : To a Lady that accused him of Inconstancy (p. 107). 
It was probably written by Etheredge, who wrote a poem called 
“ Ephelia ” : 

Poor George grows old, his Muse worn out of fashion. 
Hoarsely she sung Ephelia* s Lamentation . 

In some editions the poem, here printed, is entitled Ophelia’s 
Lamentation ; or, Ephelia to Bajazet, and there are some lines added : 

Think then, thou greatest, loveliest, falsest Man, 

How you have vow’d, how I have lov’d, and then 
My Faithless Dear, be cruel if you can. 

How I have lov’d ! I cannot, need not tell; 

For every act has shown I lov’d too well. 

Since first I saw you, I ne’er had a thought 
Was not entirely yours ; to you I brought 
My Virgin Innocence, and freely made 
My Love an offering to your noble bed. 

Since when ye ’ave been the Star by which I steer’d, 

And nothing else but you I lov’d or fear’d. 

Your smiles I only live by; and I must, 

Whene’er you frown, be shatter’d into dust. 

O ! can the Coldness which you show me now, 

Suit with the generous Heat you once did show? 

I cannot live on pity or respect; 

A thought so mean wou’d my whole Love infect; 

Less than your Love I scorn, Sir, to expect. 

Let me not live in dull IndifFrency, 

But give me rage enough to make me Die; 

For if from you I needs must meet my Fate, 

Before your Pity, I wou’d choose your Hate. 

p. 304. The Encouragement . (See Explanatory Notes.) 

p. 304 seq. The poems from “ An Essay on Scandal ” to Ballad (p. 308), inclusive, 
are reprinted from the 1761 edition, as also the Ballad (p. 310) and 
the Song (p. 312). They are the only poems in that rare edition 
which resemble in any way Lord Rochester’s authentic compositions. 
(See the Introduction to the Text.) 

p. 309. To His Mistress . This poem, for many years believed to be by 

Rochester, printed in the 1707 and other editions of his poetry, and 
attributed to him until recently in the Oxford Book of English Verse 
( 350 )■ 


- '■■■ — ' ' ' — = "' ■ " ' ' ■-— 1 ■ 1 — 1 — 

and the Cambridge History of English Literature, was written by 
Francis Quarles. Slight variations in the text have warranted its 
inclusion in an Appendix 

p. 313. The Answer . These are the last words in the quarrel between Lord 

Rochester and Sir Carr Scrope. (See Explanatory Notes.) 

p. 313. How happy Cloris {were they free). The original version of this poem 

is printed on page 1 5 

p. 315. Mask . . . for . . . Valentinian . The writer of the Masque, Sir 

Francis Fane, is best known by his comedy Love in the Dark (acted 
at the Theatre Royal, 4to, 1 675), the Epilogue to which is attributed 
to Rochester. 

p. 321. The five letters from the Dowager Countess of Rochester to her 

sister-in-law Johanna St. John are reprinted from Lives and Char- 
acters and an address to Posterity by Gilbert Burnet ... to which 
are now added Five hitherto unpublished Letters by Anne 9 Countess 
Dowager of Rochester . . . London, 1833. “ They were copied,” 
writes the editor of the edition, u by Mrs. Chapone, mother-in-law 
of the celebrated authoress, from the original autograph letters, in 
the possession of Mrs. Meredith, grand-daughter to Lady St. John; 
and came by descent into the possession of Mrs. Chapone’s grand- 
daughter, the present Miss Boyd. . . .” 

( 351 ) 



•S ' M, ■!■!!! 

p. 10,1. 9. 

p. 21, 1. 2. 

p. 21, 1. II. 

p. 21, 1. 15. 

p. 28,1. 7. 

p. 28, 1. 25. 

P . 31, 1. 12. 

= — s C fc- — — = == = > 

Notes on Poems 

TA/V huffing Honour . In the sense of blustering and noisy. 

As Nestor used of Old . One of the most outstanding examples of 
Toreutic art. (Cf. J 7 /W, XI, 632.) It was pierced with golden 
rivets, with four handles each adorned with two gold doves. The 
structure of this remarkable cup was discussed from very early 
times. (Cf. Athenceus , 489, and Helbig: Das Homerische Epos aus 
den Denkmalern erlautert , p. 272.) My authority is Sandys and 
Nettleton’s translation of Seyffert’s Dictionary of Classical Antiquity . 

Tm none of those who took Maestrich nor Yarmouth Leaguer knew . (See 
note on Maestrich, p. 368.) The Yarmouth was a famous man-of- 
war, with an armament of 52 guns. 

For 1 am no Sir SindropheL Sir Sidrophel, a mock character of Samuel 
Butler’s invention. The character was supposed to be Sir Paul 
Neal, a conceited virtuoso, and member of the Royal Society, who 
made a great discovery of an elephant in the moon, which, upon 
examination, proved to be no other than a mouse which had mis- 
taken its way, and got into his telescope. Cf. Butler’s “The 
Elephant in the Moon,” and “ An Heroical Epistle of Hudibras to 
Sidrophel,” published in 1674, and added to the Third Canto of the 
Second Part of Hudihras. “ The cunning man, hight Sidrophel,” 
who appears in Hudibras II, 3, 106, was designed to represent the 
astrologer William Lilly. 

the Rooks . Card sharpers, swindlers with special reference to gaining. 
Cf. Wycherley, Letter to Pope, 1705: “ I am (like an old Rook, 
who is ruined by Gaming) forced to live on the good Fortune of the 
pushing young Men.” 

Bovy's a Beauty . Cf. Pepys, May 21st, 1 668 : “ One Bovy, a solicitor, 
and lawyer and merchant all together, who hath travelled very 
much, did talk some things well.” Oldham mentions him in his 
Imitation of Boileau : 

“ Gold to the loathsomest object gives a grace. 

And sets it off, and makes ev’n Bovey please.” 

Elsewhere he is called “ an old battered court-fop of these times.” 

Foster could make an Irish Lord a Nokes 9 
And Betty Morris had her City Cokes . 

The origin of both these words is obscure. Their meanings are 
synonymous: a simpleton, a fool, a ninny, one easily deceived. 
Mrs. Foster and Betty Morris were too well-known bawds, 
contemporaries of the more famous Mrs. Cress well, Mrs. Ross 
and Mrs. Bennet, frequenters of Mo or fields. Whetstone’s Park, 

( 355 ) 



Dog-and-Bitch Yard. [Cf. Caulfield. Portraits, Memoirs and 
Characters of Remarkable Persons, 1813.] 
p. 1 * 33 - Manto gown . A cloak of Italian or Spanish design, 
p. 3 3. The Epistolary Essay is addressed by Lord Rochester to Lord Mulgrave. 

p. 33, 1 , 20. Brittish Prince[s], The Honourable Edward Howard’s “ incompar- 
able poem” was the butt of satirists. Lord Dorset, and Samuel 
Butler each wrote two poems against it, Waller and Denham one 

p. 35. A Satire on Man. 

“ Of the Satire against Man,” says Dr. Johnson, “ Rochester can only 
claim what remains when all Boileau’s part is taken away.” 

The original begins : 

De tons les Animaux qui s' el event dans P Air 
Qui marchant sur la Terre , ou nagent dans la Mer> 

De Paris au Perou , du Japon jusqu'a Rome , 

Le plus sot Animal , a mon avis , c'est PHomme . 

Oldham made an inept translation of it. Rochester’s version has 
merits worthy of more praise than Johnson’s curt criticism expresses, 
p. 37, 1 . 21 The flaming limits of the Universe . “ Flammantia moenia mundi,” 

Lucretius , I, 73. 

p, 37, 1 . 25. Ingelo. Nathaniel Ingelo (i62I?-i683), a Fellow of Eton, a divine, 
and, according to Wood, a F ellow of Emmanuel College, Cambridge, 
was keenly interested in music, the use of which in his small chapel 
in Christmas Street at Bristol caused offence but elicited a remark 
that has been preserved: “ Take away music, take away my life.” 
He seems to have been a mild and pious person; he was a Doctor 
of Divinity of Oxford and the author of, a religious romance, 
“Bentivolio and Urania,” two sermons, and a Latin hymn 
“ Hymnus Eucharistus,” that was set to music and performed at the 
Guildhall. Andrew Marvel addressed to him, on his leaving 
England as chaplain and choirmaster to Bulstrode Whitelocke, the 
Latin poem, beginning: 

“ Quid facis, arctoi charissime transfuga cceli, 

Ingele, pro sero cognite, rapte cito ! ” 

p. 37, 1. 26. Patrick's Pilgrim . Bishop Patrick wrote a poor imitation of John 
Bunyan’s Pilgrim's Progress entitled The Parable of the Pilgrim. 
p. 37, L 26. Sihb's Soliloquies . Richard Sibbs (1577-1635), a puritan divine, the 
son of a wheelwright, was a divinity lecturer at Cambridge, and at 
the end of his life perpetual curate at Holy Trinity Church in that 
town. The book referred to, one of an enormous list, is probably 
Divine Meditations and Holy Contemplations , 1638. Izaac Walton 
wrote : 

“ Of this blest man let this just praise be given. 

Heaven was in him, before he was in heaven.” 

( 356 ) 

■g !'...,; j g 

p. 37, 1. 38. 

. 38,1.30. 
• 43 - 


50, 1. 25. 

50, 1. 28. 

50. 1. 1. 

52. 1. 20. 


■ - -Si? = = s- 

Ointments . “ There are actions . * . ascribed to Witches, which 

are ridiculous and impossible in the nature of things; such . . . 
their flying out of windows, after they have anointed themselves, 
to remote places. . . . The Witch’s anointing herself before she 
takes her flight may perhaps serve to keep the body tenantable, and 
in fit disposition to receive the Spirit at its return. These things 
we may conceive, though I affirm nothing about them.” {Saducis- 
mus Triumphatus : or Full and Plain Evidence concerning Witches . 
By Joseph Glanvil. Part I. 1681.) There were three formulas 
for concocting flying ointment: 

(1) Du persil, de I’eau de l’Aconite, des feuilles de Peuple, et de 
la suye. 

(2) De la Berle, de l’Aconite vulgaire, de la Quintefeuille, du 
sang de chauvsouris, de la Morelle endormante, et de Phuyle. 

(3) De graisse d’enfant, de sue d’Ache, d’ Aconite, de Quinte- 
feuille, de Morelle, et de suye. 

Reginald Scott (1584) supposed the ointment to be made from 
the flesh of unbaptized infants. [Cf. The Witch-Cult in Western 
Europe. By M. A. Murray, 1921.] 

Meres . Sir Thomas Meres, M.P. for Lincoln, and in 1679 com- 
missioner of the Admiralty. 

On "Nothing. “Nothing” as a theme was long a commonplace. 
Johnson compares with Rochester’s verses Passerat’s Latin poem 
Nihil (1567). Two years before Passerat, Sir Edward Dyer had 
written a tract in prose, “ The Prayer of Nothing,” which had 
suggested a popular broadside, printed in Collier’s Book of Roxburghe 
Ballads (Charles Whibley). 

Seneca's Troas. Seneca the younger wrote a tragedy based on that of 
Euripides called the “Troades.” The form Troas is properly 
applied to the tragedy of Q. Cicero referred to in Cicero “ Ad 
Quintum fratrem, III, 566, 7.” 

Then a young Daughter lost. Elizabeth (“ Temperance ” so named for 
her gentle manner), the second daughter of Charles I, died a 
prisoner in Carisbroke Castle in 1650 at the age of fifteen. In a 
short life she became extremely proficient in languages and theology. 

Gloucester's Obsequies . Henry, Duke of Gloucester (1639—1660),, 

third son of Charles I. He died of smallpox in London and was 
buried in the vault of Mary Queen of Scots at Westminster. 

Royal Princess fall. Mary, Princess of Orange (1631-1660), mother 
of William III, renowned for her beauty and intelligence. She died 
of smallpox in the year of Charles II’s Restoration. 

Smiths in Sattin sing. These and the following lines ridicule the 
extravagant production and success of “ Psyche ” by Thomas 
Shadwell. Duffett in a skit, “ Psyche Debauched,” had done the 
same thing. 

Losing Loadum. A variation of the game of cards called Loadum, 
in which the loser won. Cf. Congreve, Love for Love , 1, xi: 

( 357 ) 

52, 1. 29. 


P- 53 >L 2. 
p. 53, 1. xo. 

P- 53, 1 1 5 - 
P- 53 , L 17 - 

P- 53 , 1 - 32 . 

P- 54 * 
p. 55, 1. 24. 

P- 55 , 1 . 3 1 * 

P- 55 , 1 - 32. 
p. 56, 1. 12. 


■ f C S 1 — ■■ 

“To converse with Scandal is to play at Losing Loadum; you 
must lose a good Name to him before you can win it for yourself.” 

Fribling. Stammering. Compare Middleton, The Mayor of Queen- 
borough y 1627: “ They speak but what they list of it, and fribble 
out the rest.” 

the Great Wonder of the English Stage . Captain Mohun (1620?- 
1684), a celebrated actor. He was of Killigrew’s company on the 
reopening of the theatres at the Restoration. He played second 
to Hart, but was scarcely held an inferior actor. “ Mimic his foot 
. . . ” The allusion, according to Genest, supposes him to have 
suffered from gout. 

The Tray tor, Volpone . Downes praises Mohun’s performance as 
Volpone. The Traitor , by James Shirley, was revived at the 
Restoration, October 20th, 1674. 

Rage like Cethegus, or like Cassius die. Mohun’s performances in the 
parts of Cethegus and Cassius were remarkable. “ Mohun’s great 
skill and art,” writes Steele in the Tatler (Nov. 26, 1709 ), “never 
failed to send me home full of such ideas as affected my behaviour 
and made me insensibly more courteous and humane to my friends 
and acquaintances.” 

My Lord, Great Neptune , etc . This is an echo of Dryden and 
D’ Avenant’s adaptation of the Tempest ; Act V, Scene 2, Amphitrite 
sings: u My lord, great Neptune, for my sake ” etc., and Neptune, 
twenty-three lines later cries: “ Great nephew JEolus , make no noise, 

. Muzzle your roaring boys” 

Lady Elizabeth Howard. “ Moll ” Howard. (See note, p. 378.) 

Crown 9 s tedious Sense . John Crowne wrote seventeen plays and The 
Masque of Calisto . The reproach of tediousness was not unmerited. 
Crowne’s essays in Heroic tragedy are not remarkable in any way, 
and often dull. 

blundering Settle. 

“ In vain we bid dejected Settle hit, 

The Tragic Flights of Shakespear’s tow’ ring Wit; 

He needs must miss the mark, who’s kept so low, 

He has not strength enough to draw the Bow.” 

(A Satire on the Poets, in Poems on Affairs of State.) 

puzling Otway. Refers to Otway’s inability to write successful 

refin 9 d Etheredge . Sir George Etheredge, “ gentle George,” a graceful 
figure at Court and the author of three slight but charming comedies. 
He outlived the frivolous adventures of Charles II’s reign, and as 
minister at Ratisbon for James II regretted the absence of his friends 
and the pleasures of a life that came suddenly to an end at Charles’ 
death. A letter-book, preserved in manuscript at the British 
Museum, records the melancholy of his thoughts and delicacy of 

( 358 ) 


p. 56, 1. 15. 

p. 56, 1. 17. 

p. 56, 1. 17. 

p. 56, 1. 20. 

p* 56, 1. 23* 

- == ■ a S ? — * 

his wit in a foreign land. He was born about the year 1636 and 
died about the time of the Revolution. F or an account of his comedy. 
Sir Foiling Flutter . (See Introduction, p. xxxviii.) 

FI at man, who Cowley imitates . Thomas Flatman (1637-1688), a 
poet and miniaturist, is hardly remembered to-day; his name, with 
many others who attached themselves to the school of Cowley, has 
passed into oblivion. 

Lee. Nathaniel Lee, the dramatist (i653?-i 692). He drank heavily 
as he grew older, and finally his mind became affected. 44 Poor 
Nat Lee” was removed to Bedlam in 1684. Five years later he 
was released, but survived only three years, being found one night 
drunk and dying in the snow. 

Scipio, fret and rave 

And Hannibal , a whining Amorous Slave . 

Although the plots of Lee’s tragedies were mainly drawn from 
ancient history, he treated his authorities with complete freedom. 
Sophonisba or Hannibal's Overthrow tells the story of Hannibal’s 
legendary passion for a lady of Capua. Lee dedicated to the Earl 
of Rochester his first work, the tragedy of 64 Nero.” 

In Busby's hands . Richard Busby (1606-1695), headmaster of West- 
minster School. He is remembered as one of the sternest disciplin- 
arians. The Dictionary of National Biography quotes an epigram 
on Dr. Freind’s appointment to Westminster: 

44 Ye sons of Westminster, who still retain 
Your antient dread of Busby’s awful reign, 

Forget at length your fears — your panic end — 

The monarch of the place is now a Freind.” 

hasty Shadwell and slow Wycherley . Shadwell wrote seventeen plays. 
His name is coupled with Elkanah Settle’s in Absalom and Achitophel: 

44 Two fools that crutch their feeble sense on verse; 

Who by my Muse to all succeeding times. 

Shall live in spight of their own doggrel rhymes.” 

44 Lord Rochester’s character of Wycherley is quite wrong. He 
was far from being slow in general, and in particular wrote the 
Plain Dealer in three weeks.” (Pope: Spence's Anecdotes.) 
p. 56, 1 . 24. Shadwell' s unfinished Works. Thomas Shadwell (1642?— 1692). The 
Earl of Rochester, in these lines, sums up the chief characteristics of 
44 hasty Shadwell’s ” genius. Shadwell was a popular writer, and 
succeeded Dryden as poet laureate. Rochester said : 44 If Shadwell 
had burnt all he wrote, and printed all he spoke, he would have 
had more wit and humour than any other poet.” 
p. 56, 1 . 25. Great proofs of force of Nature, none of Art. Cf. Cicero, Ad Quinten 
fratrem. > XI. 9~(n). 4: 44 Lucretii poemata, ut scribis, ita sunt 
multis luminibus ingenii, (non) muttse tamen artis.” Some editors 
place a non either in the first or second half of the sentence. 

( 359 ) 

• 555 = 55 = 

p. 56, 1. 34. 

p. 56, 1. 36. 

p. 56,1.40. 

P- 57 j 1 - i- 

p. 57, 1. 10. 
p. 57, 1. ix. 

p- 57* L3 1 * 

p. 58, 1 . 3* 


& = - ' s< 

Waller by Nature for the Bays design’d (1606-1687). A poet for 
whom Rochester had a genuine admiration, witness Dorimant’s 
quoting his couplets in Etheredge’s comedy of Sir Fopling Flutter . 

Panegyricks . Waller lavished his praise indiscriminately on Cromwell 
and Charles II, e.g. “ A Panegyric to My Lord Protector, of the 
Present Greatness. . . .” (r. 1654.) “Upon the Death of the 
Lord Protector.” “To the King, upon his Majesty’s Happy 
Return.” “ Instructions to a Painter, 1665.” Etc. 

The best good Man , with the worst natur’d Muse . Charles Sackville, 
Earl of Dorset. “ He was the finest gentleman in the voluptuous 
Court of Charles the Second, and in the gloomy one of King William. 
He had as much wit as his first Master, or his contemporaries 
Buckingham and Rochester, without the Royal want of feeling, 
the Duke’s want of principles, or the Earl’s want of thought. It 
was not that he was free from the failings of humanity, but he had 
the tenderness of it too, which made everybody excuse whom every- 
body loved, for even the asperity of his verses seems to have been 
forgiven to : 4 The best good Man, with the worst-natur’d Muse.’ ” 
(Orford, Noble Author r, Vol. II.) The asperity of his muse is well 
illustrated by the lampoons — sometimes attributed to Rochester — 
that he addressed to Mr. Edward Howard on his play. The British 
Princes , and on his New Utopia, 

Sedley has that prevailing, gentle Art. Sir Charles Sedley (1639 (r.)- 
1701) was educated at Wadham College, the Earl of Rochester’s 
College, Oxford. His capacity for self-indulgence was not exceeded 
by the wildest of his contemporaries. The story of his standing 
stark naked on the balcony of a London tavern and scandalizing 
the attendant crowd is told by Antony Wood in his Athena Oxonien - 
sis. Burnet says, “Sedley had a more sudden and copious wit, 
which furnished a perpetual run of discourse; but he was not so 
correct as Lord Dorset, nor so sparkling as Lord Rochester.” Like 
Etheredge, he became more serious in his old age and was active 
against the reigning party during the Revolution, urged, perhaps, 
by the dishonour brought upon his daughter, created Countess of 
Dorchester by James II. 

a dry Bawdy bob . “ Dry bob: a blow that does not break the skin.” 
(N.E.D.) Used figuratively to denote a taunt of a bitter nature. 

Poet Squab . A popular nickname for Dryden, who was small and 
plump-looking. Squab is of Scandinavian origin, meaning flabby, 
and is used also as a synonym for sofa or cushion. 

Mustapha , the English Princes . Mustapha, a tragedy by the Earl of 
Orrery (fol. 1667), ridiculed by Rochester in “Timon.” “The 
English Princes,” an heroic poem by Edward Howard, an inept 
piece of work which merited the censures of Lord Dorset, Samuel 
Butler, Waller and Denham. 

Betty Morris . A woman of the town, of whom little is known. 
“Bawdy whore” in some editions is changed to “Buckhurst’s 

( 360 ) 

p. 58,1. 7- 
P- 58 , 1 . 13. 
p. 58, 1. 14. 

p. 58, 1. 14. 
p. 58, 1. 28. 
p. 60. 

p. 62. 

p. 62. 

p. 63. 

p. 63, 1. 23. 
P- 63, 1 . 33. 

p. 64. 



whore ” Possibly she is the lady celebrated by Buckhurst in his 
poems. [Cf. Gent. Mag ., 1780, p. 218.] (See note, p. 355.) 

the Pur-blind Knight. Sir Carr Scrope, whose short-sightedness was 
remarked upon in many contemporary lampoons. 

Sheppard . Sir Fleetwood Sheppard (1634—1698), courtier and minor 
poet, patronized by the Earl of Dorset. (See note, p. 392.) 

Godolphin . (1645-1712.) Sidney Godolphin, Earl of Godolphin, 

page of honour, groom of the bedchamber, and master of the robes. 
He was one of the 44 Chits ” (Sunderland, Godolphin, 44 Lory ” 
Hyde). His pastimes were gaming and horse-racing. 

Butler . Thomas Butler, Earl of Ossory (1634—1680), a favourite 
at Court, Gentleman of the Bedchamber, and an able diplomat. 

Anstruder. Research has not revealed the identity of Anstruder, or 
Anne Strudder, as the spelling runs in some editions. 

Mr. Greenhilly the famous Painter . (1644?— 1676.) A pupil of Lely 
and imitator of Van Dyck. In early life he was industrious, but 
in later years he came under the influence of the dissolute inhabi- 
tants of Covent Garden. On May 19th, 1676, he was found drunk 
in a ditch and died during the night. He was admired by Mrs. 
Behn, with whom he corresponded, and at his death she lamented 
him in verse. 

On Rome's Pardons. This poem, ridiculing the assumption of the 
Romanists to afford plenary indulgence and complete absolution of 
sins in exchange for money, was printed as a broadside in 1685 
( Roxburghe Ballads , III, 825). Rochester, at the time of the 
Papist plots, identified himself with the anti-Romanist party. This 
is the only poem of the mass of invective produced on that occasion 
that can be attributed to him. 

On the Supposed Author of a late Poem in Defence of Satire. This was 
Sir Carr Scrope (see note, p. 385), who had severely criticized Lord 
Rochester’s character in a satire beginning: 

44 When Shakespear, Johnson, Fletcher rul’d the stage . . .” 

An extract is quoted in the Introduction, p. xxxii. Rochester replied 
with this piece of invective 5 Scrope had the last word, and his 
answer is printed in the Appendix, p. 304. 

Poet Ninny . A character from Shadwell’s Sullen Lovers > or The 

Impertinents ; 44 a conceited Poet, always troubling Men with 
impertinent Discourses of Poetry, and the Repetitions of his own 
Verses 5 in all his Discourse he uses such affected Words, it is as 
bad as the Canting of a Gypsie.” Nokes the actor played this part. 

gentle George. George Etheredge. (See note, p. 358.) 

Nokes . A well-known actor (died 1692), who played the part of 
Poet Ninny in Shadwell’s Sullen Lovers. 

Monster AU-Pride , or Lord All-Pride , was Sheffield, Earl of Mulgrave 
(see Introduction), whose pride is mentioned in many contemporary 
satires ( 44 The Deponents,” 44 The True Englishman,” etc.)., 

( 3 61 ) 

p. 64,1.27. 
p. 64, 1. 32. 

p. 64, 1. 39. 

p. 70, 1. 36. 

P- 74 - 
p. 76, 1. 29. 

p. 77,1.21. 
P* lit 22. 

p. 78,1. 2. 

p.. 78, 1. 14. 

p. 78, 1. 16. 


Amongst his other nicknames were “ Haughty ” and “ King 
John.” [Cf. “ Rochester’s Ghost addressing the Secretary of The 
Muses ” in Poems on Affairs of State S\ This poem was probably 
composed after Rochester’s mock duel with Mulgrave, and was 
answered by the famous “ Essay on Satire,” as a result of which 
Dryden was beaten. 

Punchinello, , i.e. Polichinello. 

Smithfi eld's wondrous Fair was opened by the Lord Mayor at Bartlemy- 

The Knight o' th 9 Burning Pestle . Mulgrave was nicknamed thus on 
account of his “ red snout thrust in the face of pretty women.” 

Or Daphne from the Delphick God . The story as told by Ovid, 
Metam.y I, 452-567, is as follows: Apollo scornfully compared 
Cupid’s weapons to the bow with which he had killed the Python ; 
in revenge Cupid afflicted him with love. For one day he saw in 
a wood Daphne, daughter of the river Peneus in Thessaly, was 
seized with passion for her, and pursued her;' when on the point 
of being overtaken she prayed for help and was turned into a laurel 
tree ( 'Bapvrj ^ which became Apollo’s favourite tree. 

Busks . Cf. Holme’s Armoury y III, 1688: “ A Busk . . . is a strong 
peece of Wood, or Whalebone, thrust down the middle of the 

On Tick . This is a very early use of the expression. The New English 
Dictionary gives the earliest reference in MSS. Add. Brit. Mus. 
37999, 1642. It occurs frequently in Restoration Drama. Cf. 
Wycherley, Love in a Wood: “ A poor wretch that goes on tick for 
the paper he writes his Lampoons on.” 

Halfwit and Huffe . To huffe means to speak or conduct oneself in 
an arrogant and bombastic fashion. It is here used as a nickname. 

Kickum and Dingboy . To Ding, sometimes used in conjunction with 
huffe: “ to huff and ding,” in the sense of “to bounce and 

A man that lov'd two women at one time. “ Apres avoir promene a 
travers le royaume ses deux maitresses et la reine dans le meme 
carrosse [Louis XIV] permit & son infortunee amante de prendre 
la voile (1674).” “ L’infortun6e amante” was Louise de la 

Valliere who retired in favour of Mme de Montespan. 

Our own plain Fare , and the best Terse the Bull Affords , I'll give you . 
Terse was much used in the late seventeenth century as a synonym 
for claret. The origin is obscure: it may either be from the adjec- 
tive terse, or from “Thiers,” a wine-producing district in France. 
Compare Sedley, Bellamin (II, 1): “I am so full, I should spill 
terse at every jolt.” And again, “ He grudg’d his money for 
honest terse.” 

French Kickshaws . Compare Lee, Princess of Cleve y I, 2. 

Poltrot sings. 0 , to Bed to me> to Bed to me , etc . 

Nemours. Excellent, incomparable. 

( 3 62 ) 


p. 78, 1. 20. 
p. 78, 1. 23. 

p. 78, 1. 37. 

p. 78, 1. 37. 

p. 79,1. 7. 

P- 79 , 1 - i 3 - 

p. 79, 1. 17. 

p. 79,1.20. 
p. 79, 1. 21. 

p. 79,1-24- 

p. 79,1. 25. 

p. 79,1-27. 

- — 1 - — =€ S? ... » 

Pol. Why is it not, my Lord ? This is no Kickshaw, there’s 
Substance in the Air, and Weight in the Words. 

Hard as the Arse of M . Probably the Duchess of Mazarine. 

As Tool ’, that to fair Counters did belong. See 44 Signior Dildoe,” 
p. 1 28, and note to that poem. 

Harris. Joseph Harris {fl. 1661-1681). A well-known actor and 
friend of Pepys. (Cf. Genest, i, 388-9.) 

Cullen's Bushel C . Cullen is possibly a nickname for Charles II. 

Compare the poem in the Roxburghe Ballads : 44 Cullen and his 
flock of Court Misses,” which has been attributed to Rochester and 
printed as 44 Colon ” in some editions. A contemporary common- 
place book gives it to Villiers, Duke of Buckingham. 

. . . and Suckling's easy Pen. Cf. Congreve, The Way of the Worlds 
Act IV, Scene 1, Mrs. Millamant reciting Suckling’s verses: 

There never yet was Woman made 
Nor shall, but to be curs'd. 

And Mrs. Fainall’s remark: 44 You are very fond of Sir John 
Suckling to-day, Millamant, and the Poets.” 

Halfwit, cries up my Lord of Orrery 
Oh how well Mustapha, and Zangier dye . 

Mustapha and Zangier — two characters in Lord Orrery’s Mustapha . 
44 1 never saw such good acting of any creature as Smith’s part of 
Zanga.” [Pepys, 1 ith of February, 1667-8.] (Downes gives the 
spelling Zanger.) 

44 And which is worse, if any worse can be, 

He never said one word of it to me.” 

The Black Prince , Act II, Scene 1, 269—270. 

Cot's nouns . A variation of the oath 44 God’s Wounds.” 

Ether edge. (See note, p. 358-) 

Two talking Plays without one plot. 

(1) The Comical Revenge, or Love in a Tub , 4to, 1664. 

(2) She Wou'd if she Could , 4to, 1668. 

Settle, and Morocco . 44 The Empress of Morocco, a Tragedy, with 

Sculptures, as it is acted at the Duke’s Theatre, 1673, by Elkanah 
Settle.” The engravings illustrate the appearance of the Duke’s 
playhouse in Lincoln’s Inn Fields. It is the first play printed with 
illustrations, and so great was its success that it was priced at 2s. 
Whose broad-built bulks, the boyst'rous Billows bear, 

Zaphee and Sally, Magudore, Oran, 

The fam'd Arzile, Alcazer, Tituan. 

Settle, The Empress of Morocco^ 1673, Act II, Scene 1. 

The lines are incorrectly quoted, and should read: 

44 Their lofty Bulks the foaming Billows bear, 

Saphee and Sallie, Mugadore, Oran, etc.” 

( 363 ) 


U SSS 2 2 

P- 79 , 1 . 3 *- 

P* 79, 1. 33- 

P- 79, L 37- 
p. 8o, 1. i. 

p. 8o, 1. 2. 

p. 8o, 1. 7. 
p. 8o, 1. 9. 

p. so, 1. 3+. 


•-CS & 

Crown. John Crowne was born in Nova Scotia, but came over to 
England early in Charles IPs reign, when he was driven by his 
necessities to become gentleman-usher to “ an old independent lady 
of quality.” He was a prolific playwright, was protected by 
Rochester, who set him above Dryden, inviting him to write a 
masque for Court; this patronage was withdrawn when Crowne 
became popular (see Introduction). He was an amiable man — 
“ Many a cup of metheglin have I drunk with little starch Johnny 
Crowne ... we called him so from the stiff, unalterable primness 
of his long cravat,” is the recollection of a writer in the Gentleman’s 
Magazine , many years after. “ I think his Genius seems fittest 
for comedy; tho’ possibly his Tragedies are no ways contemptible; 
all of which, in my weak judgement, his Destruction of Jerusalem 
seems the best.” (Langbaine.) Sir Courtly Nice (1685) was his 
most popular play, and was acted for almost a century after his death. 

Witness Pandion and his Charles the Eighth . “ I was scarce twenty 

years when I fancied it,” Crowne wrote to Lord Chichester in the 
dedication of his first work, Pandion and Amphigenia ; or the Coy 
Lady of Thessalia , a romance which was printed at London in 1665 
in octavo. The History of Charles Fill of France or the Invasion of 
Naples by the French was acted at the Duke’s Theatre in Dorset 
Garden, 1671, and printed in quarto the following year. 

Fitting their Oars and Tackling to be gone ; 

Whilst sporting Waves smil’d on the rising Sun . 

Charles VI II y Act I, Scene 2. 

The Indian Emperor — or the Conquest of Mexico by the Spaniards . 
Being the Sequel of the Indian Queens. By John Dryden. The 
Preface is the well-known Defence of an Essay of Dramatick Poesie , 
“ being an Answer to the Preface of the Great Favourite , or the 
Duke of Lerma .” It was acted in 1665 at the Theatre Royal, and 
there were nine editions of it between 1667 and 1703. 

As if our Old World modesty withdrew , 

And here in private had brought forth a new. 

The Indian Emperor, Act I, Scene 1. 

A Laureat’s head. John Dryden was appointed poet laureate' and 
historiographer in 1670. 

Will S ouches this year any Champoon drink? / 

Will Turenne fight him ? 

(1) Ludwig Raduit de Souches, Austrian Field^Marshal. (2) Henri 
de la Tour d’ Auvergne vicomte de Turenn^ Marshal de France, 

To drink Beer Glass, and hear the Hectors roar. Beer Glass is a glass 
to hold half a pint. “ A Silver cup . . . the Form of a Beer 
Glass.” [Cf. London Gazette , 1707, 4391-3.] In the last half 

( 364 ) 


of the seventeenth century Hectors were any band of rowdy men 
who haunted the London streets, and were responsible for robberies, 
debaucheries, or street fights. Compare Luttrell (1693): 44 On 
Sunday Night last, 3 hectors came out of a tavern in Holbourn, 
with their swords drawn, and began to break windows.” 

p. 82, 1 . 42. Cot sail Wool. The original text prints Cotfull. Cotswold Wool. 

This form of the word Cotswold was not uncommon in the seven- 
teenth century. Shakespeare mentions the famous Cotsall games. 

P* 83, 1 . 5 seq. I view those Feet that 1 have seen. Cf. Mneid , VII, 808-9 : 44 Ilia 
vel intactae segetis per summa volaret/gramina, nec teneras cursu 
laesinet austus.” The original description is in Homer, Iliads 
20, 226. 

p. 85, 1 . 35. Henningham. He courted the Muses so guardedly that it was said 
of him: 

44 His Mistress ne’er knows, so odd ’tis express’d 
Whether he means to make love or a jest.” 

( Poems on Affairs of State.) 

p. 85, 1 . 36. Arp. Arran , Villain Frank , , nay Poulfney too . Arp. — I have been 
unable to trace this name elsewhere — Arran. James, Earl of 
Arran, son of the Duke of Hamilton. 

Villain Franck. Cf. 44 Advice in a letter to Mr. Franck Villiers,” 
MS. Trowbesh Collection. 

44 Villain Franck, well advised by a small looking-glass, 

Of his damned, disagreeable, vermin-like face.” 

Poulteney. Son of Sir William Poulteney. 

p. 86, 1 . 1. Hewet. (See note, p. 385.) 

p. 86, 1 . 2. Villiers. Franck Villiers. (See supra.) 

p. 86 , 1 . 3. Howe. John Greetham Howe (1657-1722) — the notorious 44 Jack 

How” whose name is frequently mentioned in contemporary 
lampoons. He was banished from Court in 1679 for slandering 
the Duchess of Richmond. 

p. 86, 1 . 3. Brandon. (See note, p. 386.) 

p. 86, 1 . 8. What Nature wants , etc. Cf. Juvenal, Satire, I, 79 : 

44 Si natura negat facit indignatio versum.” 

p. 86, 1 . 13. For a Bridewell fit. In the seventeenth century Bridewell was re- 
nowned for its famous house of correction, for female offenders. 

p. 86, 1 . 6. Lumley and Savage \ gainst the Pope declaim ? Richard Lumley, first 
Earl of Scarborough {d. 1721). A Roman Catholic and a favourite 
of Charles II, and a volunteer for the expedition to Tangier in 1680. 

Henry Savage, D.D. (i6o4?-i 672). Master of Balliol College, 
Oxford, and Chaplain-in-ordinary to the King. 

p. 86, 1 . 15. Ranelaugh and fearful Mulgrave are preferred. Richard Jones, first 
Earl of Ranelaugh (i 636?-I7I2), Chancellor of the Irish Ex- 

p. 86, 1 . 20. Nell. Nell Gwyn. (See note, p. 370.) 

( 365 ) 


p. 86, 1 . 20. sawcy Oglethorp . The reference is probably to Sutton Oglethorpe, 
brother of Sir Theophilus Oglethorpe. He was a royal page and, 
it is said, studmaster to Charles II. 
p. 86, 1 . 24. James . Duke of Y ork and brother of Charles II. 
p. 86,1.25. Sunderland, Robert Spencer, 2nd Earl (1640-1702). The most 
unscrupulous politician of his age. He belongs more to the reigns* 
of James II and William of Orange than to the Restoration. (See 
note, p. 385.) 

p. 86, 1. 26. Halifax . Sir George Savile. (See note, p. 392.) 
p. 86, 1. 27. patient Bar dish Shrewsbury . Francis, Earl of Shrewsbury, who died 
after a duel with Villiers, Duke of Buckingham. He bore patiently 
the perpetual misconduct of his wife, who, according to Hamilton, 
was “ less fortunate for her conquests than for the misfortunes she 
occasioned, [and] placed her greatest merits in being more capricious 
than any other.” Lord Shrewsbury was “ too polite a man to make 
reproaches to his wife.” [Hamilton.] 

p. 86 , 1 . 28. Charles Mor daunt, (See note, p. 385.) Married, before he was 
twenty years old, Carey Fraser, the daughter of Sir Alexander 
Fraser of Durrin, Kincardine. 

p. 86, 1 . 29. Dryden’s cudgelVd Skin, The story of “ Black Will with a Cudgel ” 
is described fully in the Introduction (p. xlii). The story is dealt 
with at some length by Monsieur Beljame in his book, Le Public 
et les Hommes de Lettres au Dix-septieme Sikle, 
p. 86, 1 . 30. Tom Thynne . “ Tom of Ten Thousand,” the owner of Longleat 

House in Wiltshire. In Absalom and Achitophel he appears as 
Issachar — “ wise Issachar,” Monmouth’s “ worthy Western 
friend.” He seems to have suffered from a surplus of wealth and 
from a lack of sense. Elsewhere he is called “Fool Thin” and a 
variant reading of the line in this poem substitutes “ rich ” for 
“ safe.” Thynne was murdered after his marriage with Elizabeth 
Percy in 1681, by the emissaries of Konigsmark, one of his rivals 
in love. A contemporary epigram (1682) is worth recalling: 

“ Here lies Tom Thynne of Longleat Hall, 

Who never would have miscarried 

Had he married the women he lay withal. 

Or lain with the woman he married.” 

The History of Insipids, Rochester was banished from Court for this 
satire in 1675 and retired with Sarah Barry and her aunt to Wood- 
stock. (See Intrpduction, p. xxxiii.) 

Yet hath he Sons and Daughters more 
Than e* re had Harry by threescore. 

The recorded bastards of Charles II, although the list must be very 
incomplete, were: By the Duchess of Cleveland, Charles Fitzroy, 
Duke of Southampton and Cleveland 5 Henry Fitzroy, Duke of 
Grafton; George Fitzroy, Duke of Northumberland; Anne, 

( 366 ) 

p. 86. 

p. 87,1.11. 


Countess of Sussex; Charlotte, Countess of Lichfield; Barbara, 
a nun. By the Duchess of Portsmouth, Charles Lennox, Duke of 
Richmond. By Lucy Walters, James, Duke of Monmouth and 
Buccleugh, and a daughter. By Nell Gwyn, Charles Beauclerk, 
Duke of St. Albans; James Beauclerk. By Catherine Peg, Charles 
Fitz Charles, Earl of Plymouth. By Lady Shannon, Charlotte, 
Countess of Yarmouth. By Mary Davis, Mary Tudor, Countess 
of Derwentwater. 

p. 87, 1 . 22 CabalL The Cabal ministry succeeded the administration of Claren- 
don in 1672, Charles having driven that faithful politician into 
poverty and exile. The new ministry, Lauderdale, Ashley (Lord 
Shaftesbury), Clifford, Arlington, Buckingham (the first letter of 
each name forms the word Cabal ), advised Charles in those schemes 
and alliances with France, prepared independently of Parliament, 
which were to bring the country to the verge of ruin. It is the 
subject of numerous lampoons. (Cf. Roxburgh e Ballads .) 

p. 87, 1 . 23. His very Dog. Charles, it will be remembered, had introduced a new 
breed of spaniel. Wherever he went a crowd of little dogs were to 
be seen playing round his heels. These were always straying from 
his side and were advertised for assiduously. Evelyn says that 
“ Charles II . . . took great delight in having a number of little 
spaniels follow him and lie in his bedchamber, where he often 
suffered the bitches to puppy and give suck.” [4th February, 

p. 88 , 1 . 1. Blood. “ . . . that impudent bad fellow who . . . attempted to 

steale the imperiale crowne itself out of the tower, pretending onely 
curiositie of seeing the regalia there, when stabbing the keeper tho’ 
not mortally, he boldly went away with it thro’ all the guards, 
taken onely by the accident of his horse falling down. How he 
came to be pardoned, and even received into favour, not onely after 
this, but several other exploits almost as daring both in Ireland and 
here, I could never come to understand. The man had not onely 
a daring but a vilainous unmercifull looke, a false countenance, but 
very well spoken and dangerously insinuating.” [Evelyn, June 
ioth, 1669.] 

p. 88 , 1 . 4. Ormond . James Butler, Duke of Ormonde (1610-1688). “He 
was a man every way fitted for a court: of a graceful appearance, 
a lively wit, and a cheerful temper; a man of great expence ; decent 
even in his vices, for he always kept up the form of religion . . . 
his constant attendance on his master, his easiness to him, and his 
great suffering for him, raised him to be lord-steward of the house- 
hold and lord-lieutenant of Ireland.” [Burnet: History of his Own 
Times.] Blood attempted to assassinate Ormonde in 1670 but 
failed in his enterprise. 

p. 88, 1 . 27. When Opdam blew up. The Dutch admiral Opdam was killed when 
his ship blew up in the great naval engagement on June 3rd, 1665. 
[Cf. Pepys, June 8th, 1665.] 

( 367 ) 


p. 88, 1. 31. 

p. 88, 1. 36. 
p. 89,1. 4. 

p. 89,1. 5. 

p. 89,1. 5. 

p. 89, 1. 11. 

p. 89, 1. 18. 
p. 89, 1. 21. 

p. 89, 1. 23. 

p. 89,1.25. 


& " ===== = 3 )’ 

The Bergen Business . The attack on Bergen on the 1st of August, 
1665. (See Introduction. Letter lv. to his mother, p. 280. Also 
note, p. 396.) . 

Skellum. i.e. a villain or a scoundrel; the cant name for a thief, used 
in this verse to describe the Dutch East India Fleet. 

Rich Smyrna Fleets . These were the wealthy trading vessels, which 
formed a part of the Dutch East India Fleet, attacked in the harbour 
of Bergen in August, 1665. (See letter lv.) This daring attack 
was undertaken by Lord Clifford against the advice of Lord 
Sandwich, and was the cause of much bloodshed and destruction on 
the British side. 

Haughty Holms . Sir Robert Holmes (1622-1692), English admiral. 
When Sir John Harman was made rear-admiral of the White Squad- 
rons, Holmes, in anger, handed his commission to the Duke of 
York, who tore it up. Prince Rupert had tried to dissuade Holmes, 
but in vain : “ he would do it, like a rash, proud coxcomb.” Holmes 
was one of the Duke of Buckingham’s seconds in the duel with 
Shrewsbury. (See note, p. 386.) 

Spragge . Sir Edward Spragge, “ a merry man that sang a pleasant 
song pleasantly,” vice-admiral of the “Blue Squadron” at the “St.* 
James Fight” on July 25th, 1666. He was drowned in 1673 
when his ship was struck by a cannon-ball. Dryden, in his “ Annus 
Mirabilis,” speaks of Spragge “ as bountiful as brave, whom his 
high courage to command had brought.” 

The Dutch at Chatham . This was in June, 1667, when the Dutch, 
commanded by De Ruyter and De Witt, sailed up the Medway, 
and, coming upon the English totally unprepared, fired many of 
their ships and captured the Royal Charles. 

By taking Maestrich with our Tools, i.e. the Duke of Monmouth; he 
had won renown with Conde under Louis XIV before Maestrich 
and the Rhine fortresses in the second Dutch War, 1672-73. 

false D'Estrees. Jean d’Estrees, French vice-admiral and marshal. 
(1624-1707.) He was in command of the “White Squadron” 
under the Duke of York at the engagement in South wold Bay 
(J une 7 th, 1672). In the middle of the fight, instead of sailing to the 
help of his commander-in-chief, he stood apart with Flessingue’s 
squadron. It is said that he was following out the commands given 
him by Louis XIV, “ qui voulait que ses vaisseaux se tiennent a 
l’&art le plus possible pendant que ceux de ses allies et de ses ennemis 

W as't Cromwelly Brother fames or Teague. Teague was used as a 
term of reproach, meaning “an unkempt Irish bog-trotter of 
Romanistic persuasion and Tory politics. The name was applied 
to Charles Talbot and to Laurence Hyde. 

Robin Finer. Sir Robert Viner (163 1-1 688), Lord Mayor of London. 
He set up a statue of Charles II in Stocks Market on May 29th, 
1672. He was an intimate friend of the King and, in his capacity 
( 368 ) 

9°,1. 4- 

90, 1. 15. 
90, 1. 19. 

90, 1. 22. 

• 9°> 1- 3i* 

. 91,1. 1. 

. 92, 1. 8. 
. 92, 1. 11. 

. 92,1.27. 
1. 92, 1. 29. 



& = = ; . ■■— s’ 

of banker and goldsmith, was engaged in important transactions 
with him. He was ruined as a result of the notorious closing of the 
Exchequer in 1672. The death of his son and the bankruptcy 
sufficed to break his heart, and he died at Windsor Castle on 
September 2nd, 1688. 

The French Jade . Louise Querouaille, Duchess of Portsmouth. (See 
note, p. 374.) 

By shutting up the Exchequer Doors . (See note on Robin Viner supra.) 

York. James, Duke of York, brother of Charles II and, at his 
brother’s death, James II of England. 

Breda. From Breda in April of the year 1660 Charles issued the 
famous amnesty, the first act of authority of the restored monarch, 
for all except those specially excluded afterwards by Parliament, 
which referred to Parliament the settlement of estates, and promised 
a liberty to tender consciences in matters of religion not contrary to 
the peace of the kingdom. A treaty was signed with the Dutch at 
Breda after their navy had sailed up the Medway on July 2ist, 
1667; this treaty removed the danger, but not the ignominy. 

That false rapacious Wolf of France. Louis XIV: his rapacity was 
satisfied by the weak resistance offered him by the English King, 
who virtually sold himself and his country into French hands after 
the secret treaty of Dover. 

Preserved by wonder in the Oak. Rochester’s father, Henry Wilmot, 
is closely connected with this memorable escape, and was one of the 
few faithful Gentlemen-in-Waiting on Charles in his flight. 

Madam Nelly. (See note, p. 370.) 

Madam Ross. Tenant of the house where Nell Gwyn lodged when 
she was an orange-girl in London. 

Harlot all French . Louise Renee de Penencovet de Querouaille, 
Maid of Honour to the Duchess of Orleans, Duchess of Portsmouth, 
mistress of Charles II. (See note, p. 374.) 

Cleveland. “This lady, who makes so distinguished a figure in the 
annals of infamy, was Barbara, daughter and heir of William Villiers, 
Lord Viscount Grandison, of the kingdom of Ireland, who died in 
1642, in consequence of wounds received at the battle of Edgehill. 
She was married just before the Restoration to Roger Palmer, Esq., 
then a student at the Temple, and heir to a considerable fortune. 
In the thirteenth year of King Charles II he was created Earl of 
Castlemaine in the kingdom of Ireland. She had a daughter, born 
in February, 1661, while she cohabited with her husband; but 
shortly after she became the avowed mistress of the King, who 
continued his connections with her until about the year 1672, 
when she was delivered of a daughter, which was supposed to be 
Mr. Churchill’s, afterwards Duke of Marlborough, and which the 
King disavowed. Her gallantries were by no means confined to 
one or two, nor were they unknown to His Majesty. In the year 
1670 she was created Baroness of Nonesuch, in Surrey, Countess 

( 369 ) 


p. 92, 1. 31. 
p. 92 , 1.43 

P- 93 : !• 4 - 

P- 95 : 1 - 13 - 
p. 96,1. 3. 

p. 96, 1. 20. 

p. 96, 1. 24. 
p. 96, 1. 24. 



of Southampton and Duchess of Cleveland. ... In July, 1705, 
her husband died, and she soon after married a man of desperate 
fortune, known by the name of Handsome Fielding, who behaving 
in a manner unjustifiably severe towards her, she was obliged to 
have resource to law for her protection. She obtained a divorce, 
and lived for two more years, dying of dropsy on October 9th, 1709. 
Her name appears in almost all the satires of the time. She is said 
to have been in love with Jacob Hall, the rope-dancer. Some 
reference to her occurs on almost every page of Grammont’s Memoirs. 
* She was a woman,’ says Burnet , c of great beauty, but most enor- 
mously vicious and ravenous; foolish, but imperious; very uneasy 
to the King, and always carrying on intrigues with other men, while 
yet she pretended she was jealous of him. His passion for her, and 
her strange behaviour towards him, did so disorder him that often 
he was not master of himself, nor capable of minding business, 
which in so critical a time required great application.’ ” 

The Empress Me s saline. (See note, p. 386.) 

Nineveh and Jonah . “Jonah . . . said, Yet forty days and Nineveh 
shall be overthrown. . . .” [Jonah iii. 4 seq.) 

Heliogahalus 9 Sin . “ Heliogabalus not only deflowered but also married 
a virgin Vestal, saying it was reason that Priests should marry Nuns, 
because that in times past he had been Priest of the Sun.” [ The 
Canting Academy , or Villanies Discovered. London, 1674.] 

Linsey Woolsey Bawd. (See note, p. 381.) 

Moore-Fields Author . Moorefields was a neighbourhood famous for 
its brothels. Grub Street was in the Moorefields district. 

Mrs. Nelly. Eleanor (“Nell”) Gwyn. (1650-1687.) Burnet 
speaks of her as “ the indiscreetest and wildest creature that ever 
was in a Court.” Colley Cibber’s criticism of her is less injurious. 
“ She had less to be laid to her charge than any other of those ladies 
who were in the same state of preferment. She never meddled in 
matters of serious moment, or was the tool of working politicians; 
never broke into those amorous infidelities which others are accused 
of, but was visibly distinguished by her particular personal inclina- 
tion to the King, as her rivals were by their titles and grandeur.” 
It has been suggested that at one time she lived with the Earl of 
Rochester, but the suggestion is insufficiently supported by fact. 

Hart. Charles Hart (d. 1683), the actor, and one of the first lovers 
of Nell Gywn, whom he is said to have put on the stage. He was 
a grand-nephew of Shakespeare. 

Buckhurst. Charles Sackville, sixth Earl of Dorset and first Earl of 
Middlesex (1638-1706). 

“ None ever had so strange an art 
His passion to convey 
Ilito a list’ning virgin’s heart, 

And steal her soul away.” 

( 370 ) 



p. 97 , 1 . 8 

Song by Sir Carr Scrope (wrongfully attributed to Sedley) in 
Etheredge s Sir Fop/mg Flutter. One of Lord Rochester’s brightest 
companions in many adventures. In later life he became more 
iserious, was thrice regent for William III, Knight of the Garter 

C r h f m r , n, c 7 7 i6 97 - His poems were published 

with those of his friend Sedley in 1701. 

Rowley The King obtained the nickname of Old Rowley from that 
of a horse in the royal stud, which was renowned for the number 
and beauty of its offspring. There is a story preserved that Charles, 
happening to pay a visit to one of the maids-of-honour, found her 
singinga libellous song on “ Old Rowley the King.” After listening 
at the door, he knocked and Mrs. Howard’s voice cried, “ Who’s 
there ? ” “ Old Rowley himself, madam,” replied the King, open- 
mg the door. The lady-in-waiting is variously mentioned as Mrs. 
Holford and as Miss Lawson. Mrs. Howard was housekeeper to 
the Duke of York. 

p. 97,1.18 seq. She’s now the darling Strumpet of the Crowd, etc. An old story tells 
how Nell Gwyn, mobbed at Oxford in mistake for her rival, the 
Duchess of Portsmouth, put her head out of the carriage window 

cn f,, : “ Pra ?’ g° od People, be civil j I am the Protestant 
Whore ! ” 

p. 97, 1 . 25. Monmouth. James, Duke of Monmouth, son of Charles II by Lucy 
Walters, was born at Rotterdam on the 9th of April, 1649, and 
until the Restoration took the name of James Crofts. He was 
educated in Paris under the care of Thomas Ross, who later became 
secretary to Mr. Coventry, English Ambassador to the Court of 
Sweden. At the Restoration he made a magnificent d£but at Court, 
the beauty of his features and the elegance of his manners filling 
everyone, except the jealous maitresse en titre, the Duchess of Cleve- 
land, with amazement. But ambition inspired with an inherited 
talent for intrigue set him in violent opposition with his uncle, the 
Dijke of York, whom he wished to exclude from the throne. He 
was often in disgrace at Court, and in 1679 Charles II, irritated by 
Monmouth s quasi-royal progress through the country, deprived 
him of his generalship and publicly declared his illegitimacy, thus 
exploding the legend that a marriage contract between himself and 
Lucy Walters was concealed in a black box. “ His figure and the 
exterior graces of his person were such that nature perhaps never 
formed anything more complete. . . . He had a wonderful genius 
for every sort of exercise . . . but then he was greatly deficient in 
mental accomplishments.” [Hamilton.] As a result of an ineffec- 
tual rebellion on the accession of James II, Monmouth was, taken 
prisoner and beheaded on Tower-hill, July 15th, 1685. 
p. 97, 1 . 29. Prince Perkin. The Duke of Monmouth. Nell Gwyn is- said to 
have called him “ Prince Perkin ” to his face. When the Duke 
replied that she was ill-bred, she retorted: “ Ill-bred! Was Mrs. 
Barlow (Lucy Walters, his mother) better bred than I ? ” [ Gentle - 

( 37 * ) 

: 3 > 

P- 97 s 1 - 3 1 - 

P- 97 ) L 37 - 

p. 97,1.40. 

p. 98, 1. 6. 

p. 98, 1. 26. 

p. 98, 1. 28. 

p. 98, 1. 28. 

p. 9.8, 1. 28. 
p. 99,1. x. 

p. 99, 1. 15. 


man's Magazine .] Evelyn, it will be remembered, calls him “ this 

Mrs . Barlow . Lucy Walters, mistress of Charles II and mother of 
the Duke of Monmouth. The succession of her son depended on 
his legitimacy, which was the subject for much discussion and scandal 
after her death. Charles declared, on oath to Bishop Burnet, that 
there was no marriage certificate. The story is intimately connected 
with the famous “ Black Box ” (which did not contain the marriage 
bond) and the “ Hatfield Spirit.” (See note, p. 403.) 

Rymer. Thomas Rymer (1641-1713), the author of A Short View 
of Tragedy . He composed a preface for the 1691 edition of the 
Earl of Rochester’s Poems, and wrote, with poor success, a play in 
rhymed verse and other poems. 

Oxford Prisoney . Nell Gwyn’s father died there. Many of its 
prisoners benefited by his daughter’s generosity.. She also left £20 
per annum to be used for the relief of prisoners in the London gaol 
in Whitecross Street. 

The Martyr of the Ditch . Nell Gwyn’s mother: 

“ The pious Mother of this flaming Whore, 

Maid, Punk, and Bawd, full sixty years or more, 

Dy’d drunk with brandy in a common shore.” 

(Etheredge, The Lady of Pleasure.) 

Mrs. Gwyn was found drowned in a ditch at Westminster in July, 

Irish Cattle . Anno 18. Caroli II. Cap II: “An act against 
importing cattle from Ireland and other parts beyond the seas, and 
fish taken by foreigners.” [Pickering, Statutes at Large, 1763.] 
The Act was enforced on February 2nd, 1666. 

The Coots Black and White . The sense of this remark is obscure, but 
it is related to the various proverbial interpretations of the word 
Coot in such expressions as : Bald, or Black as a Coot, coot being 
used to imply a fool or ninny. 

Clanbrazil. “ Lord Bartlett ... is come out of Ireland, and he 
hath brought a fine gay Lady Clanbrassill that some say is so much 
his owne mistress that his wife will follow Lady Lauderdale into 
France.” [MS. letter at Belvoir Castle from Lady Chaworth to 
Lord Ross.] 

Fox . I have been unable to trace this lady. She was probably of Irish 
descent, since her name is coupled with that of Lady Clanbrassill. 
Father Patrick. Simon Patrick (1626-1707), Bishop of Chichester 
and Ely, and the author of an imitation of The Pilgrim! s Progress 
which is mentioned by Lord Rochester in a poem (see p. 37). He 
was domestic chaplain to the St. Johns, Lady Rochester’s family, 
at Battersea, and afterwards vicar of that parish. 

Martin . Martin Luther. 

( 372 ) 

wr — 1 ■ — 
p. 99, 1. 26. 

p. 99. 

P- 99 , 1 - 33 - 

p. 100, 1. 1. 

p. 100, 1. 6. 
p. 100, 1. 14. 

p. xoo, 1. 27. 
p. xoo, 1. 30. 

p. 100, 1. 32. 
p. xoo, 1. 34. 


====gSSSl - = =t^Q^===SS=SS2S —=22 ; " 

He managed the Cause, as he did the Sea-Fight. The action in 
Southwold Bay on June 7th, 1672. 

The Royal Angler . Charles II was devoted to fishing. (See further 
note infra.) 

Such was Domitian. The real character of Domitian, emperor, A.D. 
8 1—96, is uncertain, as the evidence consists chiefly of the encomiums 
of his flatterers and the violent denunciations of Tacitus, in whose 
opinion he was suspicious, vindictive, gloomy, timid and tyrannical; 
probably this is only a heightened account of the truth. The atmo- 
sphere of the last years is best described in the closing chapters of the 
Agricola , and there are illuminating stories in Suetonius and Juvenal , 
Sat. IV. 

Dochet. Datchet. A small village on the Thames near Windsor, was 
a favourite resort of the King, who passed many hours there fishing. 
“ 1st July, 1679. Little was done all day but going a fishing.” 
(Henry Sidney, Lord Romney. Diary y I, 20.) 

Gudgeons. The poem is entitled “ Flatfoot, the Gudgeon taker ” in 
various commonplace books. 

Lawson. Daughter of Sir John Lawson and Catherine Howard. 
She is supposed to have preserved her innocence amid all temptations. 
She is mentioned constantly in the lampoons of the period as a woman 
offering unnatural resistance to her lovers; Sir William Musgrave 
considered her of “ too great modesty.” It is uncertain whether she 
was ever the King’s mistress, in spite of the designs of her aunt, 
Mary Villiers, Duchess of Richmond. 

Nell and Lory . Nell Gwyn and Lawrence Hyde. 

My Lady Mary. Mary Villiers, Duchess of Richmond, sister of the 
Duke of Buckingham, took as second husband Thomas Howard. 
She was the aunt of Miss Lawson, and it was her endeavour to pro- 
cure her niece for the King. 

Old Richmond . Lady Mary Villiers, Duchess of Richmond. (See 
note supra.) 

Her Brother Buckingham. George Villiers, second Duke of Bucking- 
ham (1627-1688), whose name needs no advertisement. “The 
portrait of this duke,” says Lord Orford, “ has been drawn by four 
masterly hands. Burnet has hewn it out with his rough chisel; 
Count Hamilton touched it with that slight delicacy that finishes 
while it seems but to sketch; Dryden caught the living likeness; 
Pope completed the historical resemblance.” His intrigue with the 
Countess of Shrewsbury was as infamous as it was of long duration. 
As Zimri, in Absalom and Achitophel , he is vividly presented as: 

“ . . . Everything by starts, and nothing long. 

But,, in the course of one revolving moon, 

Was chemist, fiddler, statesman and buffoon ; 

Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking 
Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking.” 

He had been imprisoned for contempt of Parliament in 1677. He 

( 373 ) 

p. ioo, 1. 38. 

p. 100, 1. 40. 

p. 101. 

p. 1 01, 1. 24, 

p. 101, 1. 25. 

p. 1 01, 1. 26. 
p. 101, 1. 27. 
p. 101, 1. 29. 

p. 102, L I. 

p. 102,1. 2. 

p. 102, L 5. 

p. 102. 


■csa . , "" *• 

was released at his own request and by the influence of the merry 
gang ” for a month. He was pardoned, however, before the month 
had passed. (See note on p, xli. of Introduction.) 

Dunkirk first was sold by Clarendon , and now Tangier is selling by the 
Son. The Earl of Clarendon was turned out of office in 1667. 
One of the three chief accusations against him was the selling of 
Dunkirk to the French in 1662 for £400,000. . Tangier was finally 
abandoned to the Moors, owing to the cost of its upkeep, in 1684. 
A barren een , etc. Katherine of Braganza bore no children to her 

sovereign, which was a matter of perpetual reproach at Court, 
where she patiently endured the confinements of her rivals, the 
Duchess of Cleveland and the Duchess of Portsmouth. 

Lais Senior . The one of modern British race was Barbara, Lady 
Castlemaine, afterwards Duchess of Cleveland, maxtresse en titre 
of Charles II. 

Candish . William Cavendish (known until 1684 as Lord Cavendish), 
first Duke of Devonshire (1640-1707), leader of the anti-court 
and anti-romanist party, 1666-1678, an enthusiastic horse-racer, a 
distinguished rake, and the builder of Chatsworth. 

Henningham and Scroop. Harry Henningham and Sir Carr Scroope. 

(See notes, pp. 365 and 385.) 
scabby Ned. Ned Villiers. (See note, p. 401.) 
sturdy Franck. Frank Newport. 

Jockey. The Duchess of Cleveland’s lap-dog. My authority is a 
note in the 1731 edition. 

Lais . (See note, p. 388.) 

Julia. Daughter of Augustus and Scribonia, born in 39 B.C. and 
thrice married; a most notorious adulteress, she was banished to 
the islet of Pandateria in 2 B.C. when her father at last discovered 
her crimes and died, probably from starvation, in A.D. 14. (See 
Tac. Ann ., I, 53.) 

Minotaurus 9 birth. Pasiphae, the daughter of the Sun and wife of 
Minos, was inspired by Aphrodite with love for a beautiful bull. 
The offspring of their union was the Minotaur. “ Hie crudelis 
amor tauri suppostaque furto Pasiphae mixtumque genus prolesque 
biformis Minotaurus inest.” [Cf. Virgil, AEn^ VI, 24.] 
Portsmouth. The beauty and infamy of Louise Renee de Querouaille, 
Duchess of Portsmouth and Aubigny, need no comment. In 1671 
she became maxtresse en titre to Charles II, a position which enabled 
her to insinuate herself in the foreign policy of her adopted country. 
From the beginning she was a tool in the hands of Louis XIV, 
who employed her as an agent at the two secret treaties of Dover. 
Evelyn suggests her extravagance in this description of her rooms 
at Whitehall: “ Following His Majesty this morning through the 
gallery I went with the few who attended him into the Duchess of 
Portsmouth’s dressing-room within her bed-chamber, where she 
was in her morning loose garment, her maids combing her, newly 

( 374 ) 


p. 103, 1. 19. 

p. IO4. 

p. 104, 1. 6. 
P . 104,1. 13. 
p. 104, 1. 13. 
p. 104, 1. 20. 

p. 104. 

p. 105, 1. 7. 


= & = 3). 

out of bed, his Majesty and the gallants standing about her; but 
that which engaged my curiosity was the rich and splendid furniture 
of this woman’s apartment. . . . Here I saw the new fabric of 
French tapestry — for design, tenderness of work and incomparable 
imitation of the best painting, beyond anything I had ever beheld. 

. . Then for Japan cabinets, screens, pendule clocks, great vases 
of wrought plate, tables, stands, chimney furniture, sconces, 
branches, braseras, etc., all of massive silver and out of number.” 

Scroggs and Jeffries. Sir William Scroggs (i623?-i 683), Lord Chief 
Justice, and Judge Jeffreys (1648-1689). Scroggs is remembered 
for the part he played during the infamous Popish plot of 1678; 
on the evidence of such men as Oates and Bedloe he condemned 
many innocent persons, expressing his extreme satisfaction at having 
found them guilty. Judge Jeffreys presided over the “ Bloody 
Assizes ” after the Battle of Sedgemoor. 

Satire for which he was banished . This was in 1676. Rochester lay 
concealed in the poorer quarters of the town, and acted the part of 
the Astrologer on Tower Hill with phenomenal success. (See 
Alexander Bendo’s Advertisment, p. 155, and Introduction, p. xl.) 

French Fool. Louis XIV. 

Hector of France. Louis XIV. 

Cully of Britain. Charles II. 

Carewell. The popular name for the Duchess of Portsmouth, a 
corruption of her F rench surname — Querouaille. A variant spelling 
is Carwell. 

Hyde . Edward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon (1609-1674), Lord Chan- 
cellor. His ministry fell in 1667, and the hatred of the people 
drove him into exile abroad. [Cf. Marvell, Last Instructions to a 
Painter .] He died at Rouen and was buried in Westminster Abbey. 
He conducted the sale of Dunkirk to the French, was responsible 
for the ill success of the Dutch War, and was everlastingly reproached 
for arranging the marriage between Charles II and Catharine of 
Braganza. Catherine presented her master with Tangier, but 
with no successors, male or female; hence ff Tangier s compounder 
for a barren sheet.” 

... the Stones he took 
From Aged Paul's , to make a nest for Rook. 

“The Nest for Rook ” was the house Clarendon built for himself 
in the Mall, from the proceeds, it was said, of the sale of Dunkirk 
to Louis XIV. The unpopularity he brought on himself by the vast 
sum of money spent during its erection hastened his fall from power. 

“ Upon His House.” 

“ Here lie the sacred bones 
Of Paul beguiled of his stones : 

Here lie golden briberies. 

The price of ruin’d families; 

( 375 ) 


* sagas ggg— . 1 1 ' ■ ’ ■& ====== 3- 

The cavalier’s debenter wall, 

Fix’d in an eccentric basis, 

Here’s Dunkirk Down and Tangier Hall, 

The Queen’s marriage and all, 

The Dutchman’s templum pads . 

[A. Marvell, Poems .] 

Clarendon bought the stones intended for the repairing of Saint Paul’s, 
p. 105, 1 . 17. The Wiltshire Hog . Hyde came of a Wiltshire family; he was the 
son of Henry Hyde, of Dinton in the county, by that gentleman’s 
wife, Mary, daughter of Edward Langford of Trowbridge, 
p. 106, 1 . 4. Stemhold and Hopkins. Authors of the famous metrical version of 
the Psalms. The first edition appeared early in 1549: 44 Certayne 
Psalmes . . . drawen into English meta by Thomas Sternhold.” 
In 1549 appeared a second edition with a supplement of seven 
psalms by Hopkins, who requested that his additions should not be 
44 fathered on the dead man ” because they were not “ in any part 
to be compared with his most exquisite doinges.” The British 
Museum has more than six hundred editions printed between 1549 
and 1828. 

These verses were said to have been recited extempore at Bodicote 
Church in the parish of Adderbury. [Cf. Adderbury , by H. Gepp, 


p. 106. The King's Epitaph. Scott, without any authority, affirms that the 

epitaph was made at the King’s request. It has been suggested that 
Rochester composed it extempore, and the slight variations in the 
text might support this view. The most important variations occur 
in the first line, which has been printed : 

44 Here lies our Sovereign Lord, the King,” etc. 

Another variant of the first line, recorded by Herne, is: 

44 We have a pretty, witty King,” etc. 

As an example of the licence of editors in the early part of the 
eighteenth century it is interesting to note that the second line is 
put into a past tense in many of the editions after Charles’ death, 

, with the result that the rhyme is lost. 

p. 109, Anacreontick. It is interesting to compare this poem with one very 

similar by Abraham Cowley, whom Rochester imitated. 


The thirsty Earth soaks up the rain, 

And drinks and gapes for drink again. 

The Plants soak in the Earth and are 
With constant drinking fresh and fair. 

The Sea itself, which one would think 
Should have but little need of drink, 

Drinks ten thousand Rivers up, 

So fill’d that they or’e flow the cup. 

( 376 ) 

3 >* 


p. IXO, 1. 26. 
p. no, 1. 27. 

p. 112,1. 43. 

p. 113,1. 7. 

p. XI3, 1. 10. 

p. 1 13, 1. XI. 

p.II4,l. I. 
p. 1 16, 1 . 4. 

p. 1 16, 1. 5. 

p. 1 18. 


— &=== 

The busie Sun (and one would guess 
By’s drunken fiery face no less) 

Drinks up the Sea, and when h’as done 
The Moon and Stars drink up the Sun. 

They drink and revel all the night. 

Nothing in Nature’s sober found, 

But an eternal Health goes round. 

Fill up the Bowl then, fill it high, 

Fill all the glasses there, for why 
Should every creature drink but I, 

Why, Man of Morals, tell me why ? 

Ye sacred Nymphs of Lebethra . This is orthographically incorrect. 
Libethrum, an ancient town in Macedonia, was sacred to the Muses 
— hence Libethrides: The Muses. 

Polymnia . More commonly Polyhymnia. One of the nine Muses: 
her special province was the sublime hymn. Later she came to 
stand, like Euterpe, for lyric poetry. [Cf. Horace, Car. 1. 1. 33.] 

“ nec Polyhymnia 
Lesbium refugit tendere barbiton.” 

Tarpeia . Tarpeia, daughter of Spurius Tarpeius, commander of the 
Capitol, promised to betray the citadel to Tatius, the Sabine, in 
return for what he and his men wore on their left arms, meaning 
their gold bracelets. They, however, cast on her their heavy shields 
under which she was crushed to death. The Tarpeian Rock on, 
the south-east side of the Capitol was named after her. 

Semiramis. Consort and successor of Ninus. (Cf. note below.) 

Ninus . Son of Belus, first King of Assyria, husband of Semiramis, 
with whom he founded Nineveh. They must both be regarded 
as mythical personages. Their history is related by Diodorus 
(ii, 1-20), who borrows his material from the mythical history of 

The cruel Bellides . The Danaides. [Cf. Ovid, Ars Amatoria , 1, 73.] 

Woman was made Man's Sovereignty to own . Cf. Paradise Lost , 
Bk. IV, 299. 

Thetis, to prevent her son Achilles from going to the Trojan War, 
sent him to Scyros, where he was disguised as a maiden, and lived at 
the Court of the king Lycomedes. 

Heracles, having killed his friend Iphitus, was commanded by the 
Delphic oracle to live in bondage for three years. He became the 
slave of Omphale, Queen of Lydia, and was by her dressed in 
woman’s clothes and made to spin. 

Cornelfus G alius. u A Roman Knight, who died in the very action 
of his filthy lust.” [ The Canting Academy , 1674.] A friend of 
Vergil. He disgraced himself in Egypt, and Vergil was compelled 
to cancel the end of the Fourth Georgic which had been written in 
his honour. 

( 377 ) 



p. 1 19. Jpollo’s Grief '. The story is familiar. Hyacinthus was loved by 

Apollo and Zephyrus. Zephyrus, jealous of his rival’s success with 
the youth, deflected Apollo’s quoit during a game so that it struck 
Hyacinthus and killed him instantly. 

p. 119, 1 . 26. And Feasts be call'd by thy dear Name . The festival of Hyacinthus. 

The Hyacinthia was celebrated at Amyclae in Sparta, 
p. 120. Written under Nelly's picture . This description is given in several 

commonplace books to Barbara, Duchess of Cleveland, 
p. 122. T unbridge- W ells. The romance of this once fashionable watering- 

place, like that of Epsom Wells, has disappeared, but after the Res- 
toration it became the scene of the wildest frolics, and was a favourite 
resort of the Court. Hamilton describes the famous visit which the 
Queen made in 1664. 44 Never did love see his empire in a more 
flourishing condition than on this spot: those who were smitten 
before they came to it felt a mighty augmentation of their flame; 
and those who seemed the least susceptible of love laid aside their 
natural ferocity, to act in a new character.” 
p. 1 22, 1 . 1 4. Sir Nicholas Cully . A part in Sir George Etheredge’s Comical Revenge , 
or Love in a Tub , created by the actor Nokes. 
p. 122, 1 . 15. A Natural Nokes . Nokes, the actor. (See note, p. 361.) 
p. 123,1. 25. pert Bayes . Samuel Parker, Bishop of Oxford (1640-1688). He 
criticized Plato, Aristotle, Descartes and Hobbes, attacked the 
Puritans and wrote on ecclesiastical history and political science. 
As an undergraduate he was 44 esteemed one of the preciousest young 
men in the University.” His chief work was a discourse on ecclesi- 
astical politics. 

p. 123, 1 . 30. Tho 9 Marvel has enough exposed his folly. Marvel had exposed it in 
his Rehearsal Transpros'd (q.v.), 

P* I2 3 ? 1 - 37 - s *lb Macks. Contemptuous expression for Celtic Irishmen; a variant 
of the usual 44 Mac.” Compare these verses (c. 1688) in Third 
Collection of Poems : 

44 Who’s Rid, and Impos’d on, by many a score, 

Of Priests, Macks, and Footmen, his Queen and his Whore.” 

p. 1 24, 1. 6. Mum-bacon W omen. There is no indication of the meaning of Mum- 
bacon in the New, English Dictionary. It is possible that it is com- 
pounded of the verb 44 mumble to chew with difficulty; and 
bacon^ in which case it may be regarded as one of the earliest forms 
of the slang expression: 44 chaw-bacon.” On the other hand, it 
may be a compound of 44 Mum” a kind of German beer, and 

p. 124, 1 - 29- Cribbidge. An invention of the seventeenth century, the most popular 
card game after the Restoration. 

p. 127, 1. 15. a Writ of Habeas Corpus. In spite of an article in the Great Charter 
and of the Petition of Right (1627), ^ was not until 1679 that 
the energy and experience of Lord Shaftesbury succeeded in passing 
through both Houses (in the Upper House, it is said, by counting 
( 378 ) S 


one stout nobleman as ten) the famous Habeas Corpus Act (31* Car, 
II. c. 2). 

p. 127, 1 . 21. That Treason it should be for any , 

Without a Parliament to raise a Penny . 

Charles II had increased his private exchequer by selling Dunkirk, 
by an annual income from Louis XIV, by the scandalous “ Stopping 
of the Exchequer,” and by embezzling various sums of money laid 
aside for the Dutch War. 

p. 127, 1 . 40. He kickt the Commons out of door. Parliament was prorogued in April, 

1671, and did not sit again until February, 1673. On January 2nd, 

1672, occurred the unscrupulous “stopping of the Exchequer.” 

p. 128. Signior Dildoe . Dildoe, Dildo, or Dil Doul may be variously inter- 

preted. Here it is used in its obscene sense. A poem in The 
Cabinet of Love supplement to the edition of Rochester’s and others’ 
poems, 1731, describes the method of employing the instrument. 

The expression is found in several songs of the period, and is 
used euphemistically for Husband or Companionship, for example: 
“ The Maid’s complaint for want of a Dil Doul.” Black letter 
Ballad in the Bagford Collection, 1682-3. 

“ But none to me ever yet proffer’d such love, 

As to lye by my side, and give me a shove 
With his dil doul, dill doul, dil doul” 

p. 128, 1 . 17 Lady Southesk . Anne, daughter of William, Duke of Hamilton, and 
wife of Robert Carnegy, Earl of Southesk. She was at various times 
intimate with many courtiers, among whom were the Duke of 
York and the Earl of Falmouth. Her husband, according to 
Hamilton, to revenge himself on the Duke of York, went to the 
most infamous places to seek for the most infamous disease. His 
revenge, however, was only half completed, for after he had gone 
through every remedy to get quit of his disease, his lady did but 
return him his present, having no more connection with the person 
for whom it was so industriously prepared, 

p. 128, 1 . 21. Lady Suffolk. Barbara, the daughter of Sir Edward Villiers, and 
widow of the Hon. Charles Wenham, was married a second time in 
1650 to James Howard, third Earl of Suffolk. 

p. 128, 1 . 23. Lady Betty. Lady Betty Felton, wife of Sir Thomas Playford, and 
daughter of Barbara Howard, Countess of Suffolk. She died sud- 
denly the day after her mother’s equally sudden death in December, 
1681. She was Groom of the Stole to the Queen. “ Mr. F elton has 
at last got my Lady Betty, and has her at lodgings in the Mall. 
Her parents are very disconsolate in the point, and my L d Suffolk 
swears all manner of oaths never to be reconciled.” [Savile 
Correspondence, July 8th, 1675.] 

p. 129,1. 1. The Countess of Falmouth. Elizabeth Bagot. She married Charles 
Berkley, Earl of Falmouth, and, after his death, Charles Sackville, 
Duke of Dorset. She is described by Hamilton as the possessor of 

( 379 ) 

p. 129,1. 17. 

P . 129, 1. 25. 
p. 129,1. 25. 
p. 129, 1. 25. 

p. 130, 1. X. 
P- 130,1. 5 - 

p. 130,1. 13. 

p. 130, 1. 17. 
p. 130,1. 18. 

p. 131,1. 9. 
p. 131, 1. 26. 

p. 131, 1. 28 

p. 132, 1. 15. 
p. 132,1. 24. 


a S ? 7 — ; — »* 

“ that sort of brown complexion which, when in perfection, is so 
particularly fascinating, and more especially in England, where it 
is uncommon.” 

The Dutchess of Modena (1658-1718). She married the Duke of 
York, through the influence of Louis XIV, in 1673, and was 
afterwards Queen of England. 

Red Howard . Moll Howard. (See note, p. 379.) 

Red Sheldon . Presumably a woman of the Court. 

Temple . Miss Anne Temple, waiting-lady to the Duchess of York, 
and the second wife of Sir Charles Lyttleton. She is frequently 
mentioned in Hamilton’s Memoirs , where she is described as “ simple 
and vain, credulous and suspicious, coquettish and prudent, very 
self-sufficient and very silly.” 

Moll Howard. (See note, p. 379.) 

St. Albans. Henry Jermyn, first Earl (d. 1 684), a courtier of Charles I 
and of Charles II, a patron of Abraham Cowley. 

Tom Killigrew’s Wife. Charlotte, the daughter of John de Hesse. 
She was Killigrew’s second wife; her marriage took place at The 
Hague on January 28th, 1 654-5. She was appointed Keeper of 
the Sweet Coffer for the Queen in May, 1662, and first lady of the 
Queen’s privy chamber, June 4th, 1662. [Brit. Mus. Add. MS. 
20032./. 44. quot. D.N.B.] 

The Cockpit. A private theatre in Whitehall belonging to the Crown. 

Madam Knight. A celebrated singer and rival of Nell Gwyn. Waller 
has a song sung by her to the Queen, and Evelyn praises the compass 
of her voice (1674). She was a devout Catholic, and is represented 
before a crucifix in a painting by Lely. 

Lady Sands. This must be Lady Katherine Sondys (baptized 1658), 
daughter of George, Earl of Feversham, and wife of Lewis Watson, 
afterwards Earl of Rockingham. 

Since Reeve is turn'd Nun. Mrs. Anne Reeve, who acted in Dryden’s 
plays as Esperanza in The Conquest of Granada, Philotis in Marriage 
ala Mode, Ascanio in The Assignation. Dryden conceived a passion 
for her, but she left the stage and retired to a foreign cloister 
(c. 1675). Her name is often mentioned with that of Dryden: e.g. 
Shadwell in his Medal of John Bayes remarks that [Dryden’s] 
fi prostituted muse will become as common for hire as his mistress 
Revesia was, upon whom he spent so many hundred pounds.” 

But Apollo had got gentle George in his eye , etc. George Etheredge 
(see note, p. 35^)? indolent, as they are forced to be who spend 
their nights and days in intercourse with their friends, hearing 
Rochester’s voice upbraiding him for idleness, produced in a short 
time his best comedy. The Man of Mode , or Sir Fopling Flutter. 
(See Introduction, p. xxxviii.) 

Nat Lee . (See note, p. 359.) 

Ibrahim with preface torn out. Ibrahim the Illustrious Bassa. A 
Tragedy. Acted at the Duke’s Theatre, 1677. Madeleine de 
( 380 ) 

»g ' ILL 

p. 132,1. 27. 

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p. 133,1. 24. 

P- 133 , 1 - 3 i- 
p.138,1. 7. 

P- 139, 1- 16. 

p. 139,1. 19. 


= 1 & = 3 ’ 

Scudery wrote one of her interminable romances under the title 
Ibrahim 1, ou I’illustre Bassa . It was first printed in 1641. [Cf. 
Pepys, Feb. 24th, 1667-8.] 

And Bancks, cry’d Newport , I hate that dull rogue. John Banks, or 
Bankes, the dramatist, wrote seven plays, chiefly on historical 
subjects. Two of them, Virtue Betray’d, or Anna Bullen (4to, 
1682) and The Unhappy Favourite, or the Earl of Essex (4to, 1685), 
were very successfully produced. 

Don Carlos his pockets so amply had fill’d , etc. The reference is to 
Otway’s return in rags from an expedition to Flanders as a cornet 
in a troop of cavalry. He was appointed by Lord Plymouth, who 
had compassion on his poverty. 

Tom Essence’s author . 66 Mr. Thomas Rawlins, principal Graver of 

the Mint in the Reign of Charles I and II. Tom Essence , or The 
Modish Wife — a comedy. This play succeeded very well. Part 
of it is taken from Moli£re’s Le cocu imaginaire .” [Jacob’s Poetical 
Register .] Rawlins wrote one other play. The Rebellion, a tragedy , 
acted in 1640. Tom Essence is often stated to be anonymous, and 
there is no very strong evidence that Rawlins was the author. 

Little starch Johnny Crown. (See note, p. 364.) 

The poetess Afra. Mrs. Aphra Behn (1640-1689), poetess, novelist 
and dramatist. She wrote a prologue for Rochester’s Valentinian. 
(See Textual Notes, p. 335.) 

his dear Madam Fickle. Madam Fickle : or the Witty false One. A 
Comedy by Thomas D’Urfey, acted at the Duke’s Theatre, and 
printed in quarto, 1677. 

Tom Betterton (1635?-! 7 10), an actor highly esteemed by his con- 
temporaries. He played an important part with Harris and Charles 
D’Avenant in the management of Dorset Garden Theatre. One 
of the most important men connected with the stage after the 
reopening of the theatres. 

That he had MAID plays, etc. The pun evidently refers to Betterton’s 
own play, The Roman Virgin , adapted from Webster’s Appius and 
Virginia. , and acted in 1679. 

T’was in a Leaf etc. Cf. Vergil, Mneid. , VI, 74: 

46 Foliis tan turn ne carmina manda 
Ne turbatur volent rapidis ludibrig ventis.” 

A Linsey Woolsey Gown. The figurative sense of “ Linsey Woolsey,” 
meaning a curious medley, being neither one thing nor the other. 

“ A Lawless Linsey Woolsey Brother, 

Half of one order, Half another.” 

[Cf. Butler, Hudibras .] 

With List for Garters ’bove her Knee, 

And Breath that smells of Firmity . 

List is a kind of felt. Compare D’Urfey, Pills, I, 263: “ Pulls off 
her Garter of Woolen List.” Firmity, one of many forms of the 


»g -gsas 

p4i40jL 8. 

P- I 44 * 

P- H4> L 6. 
p. 144, L 12 . 

p. 144,1. 31. 

p. 144, L 34 - 
P- H 5 > L 3 - 

P* 1453 1 - 4 - 


word Frumenty. “ A dish made of hulled wheat boiled in milk, 
and seasoned with cinnamon, sugar, etc.’ 5 (N.E.D.) 

With butter'd Hair, and fucus'd Breast. Compare D’Urfey, Pills 
(1719): “With greasy painted faces, With butter’d Hair.” Fucus 
was in common use in the seventeenth century as a paint or cosmetic 
for beautifying the skin. Compare Phillips, Trans . Plutarch's 
Morals (1691): “The Sibyl . . . uttering Sentences, altogether 
thoughtful and serious, neither fucus’d nor perfum’d.” 

Julian . Mr. Julian, in his self-elected office of Secretary of the-. 
Muses, attended Will’s Coffee House and there recited lampoons 
which had been entrusted to him by their authors who were careful 
to remain anonymous. “ He is described,” says Malone, “ as a 
very drunken fellow, and at one time was confined for a libel.” 
Several “ Epistles to Julian ” are recorded. It is said that after his 
. death, and that of his successor, Summerton (who went out of his 
mind), the lampoon fell from fashion. Thus Julian’s ghost speaking 
from the shades remembers his career: “A knave was called a 
knave, a fool a fool, a jilt a jilt, and a whore a whore. And the 
love of scandal and native malice, that men and women have to one 
another, made me in such request when alive, that I was admitted 
to the lord’s closet, when a man of letters and merit would be thrust 
out of doors. And I was familiar with the ladies as their lap-dogs, 
for to them I did often good services; under pretence' of a lampoon, 

I conveyed a billet-doux ; and so whilst I exposed their vast vices 
in the present, I prompted matter for the next lampoon.” 

The needy Secretary. Mr. Julian, Secretary of the Muses. 

Cup ofNants. Brandy, distilled at Nantes on the Loire. “ A tost and 
Ale, or perhaps, a Cup of cool Nants.” [Humours of the Town , 1 693. J 
Prying Poult'ney , and of Bully Carr. These are presumably Sir Carr 
Scrope and the son of Sir William Poulteney, of whom little is 
known save that he killed a Mr. Howard in 1682 for having 
committed adultery with his wife. For a note on Sir Carr Scroop, 
see p. 385. 

Florid Huntingden and civil Grey . 

More than Prance , Oats, or Bedloe from the Pope . The reference is 
to hearsay evidence offered to Prance and his fellow-perjurers by 
certain Jesuits for the incrimination of the Earl of Powis and Lord 
Arundell. Miles Prance, a goldsmith, Titus Oates, and William 
Bedloe, a clockmaker, were the movers of the famous Popish Plot, 
1678—9; Lord Rochester’s attitude on that occasion was strongly 
anti-papist, and it is expressed in his satires. Considering the mass 
of literature produced at that time, it is noteworthy that Rochester 
added little to the heap of abuse. 

Thyrsis has gain'd preferment by a song. The reference is to Edmund 
Waller’s The Story of Phoebus and Daphne Applied. See The Way 
of the World , Act IV, Scene 1, where Mrs. Millamant recites the 
line: Thyrsis, a Youth of the Inspir'd Train . 

( 382 ) 



P- * 45 , L 5 - 

P- * 45 , L 7 - 
p. 145,1 18. 
P- * 45 > L 19- 
p. 145, 1. 20. 

p. 145, 1* 22. 

p. 145, L 22. 
p. 145, 1. 24. 

Hudibras. On November 6th, 1677, Henry Savile sent two books 
to Lord Rochester, at Woodstock, with a letter in which these 
interesting remarks occur: “This is onely to enclose these last 
workes of Mr. Waller which I promised you in my last. Hee has 
found noe more applause from them than I doubt Mr. Butler will 
from a third volume of Hudubras hee has newly putt out, whereby 
it is humbly conceived that a muse is apt to decay towards four 
score as well as other mortalls. I wishe your Lordship would take 
the opportunity as you have formerly in your indispositions done, 
to shew us that five and twenty is much a better age for poetry.” 
[Longleat MSS.] Hudibras was published in three parts in 1663, 
1664, 1668, but in spite of its popularity its author was neglected 
by the Court and died in poverty (1680). 

There lives a Lord . . . . The Earl of Clarendon. (See note, p. 3 75.) 

Hewefs Billet-doux . Sir George Hewit, a well-known fop at Court. 

her little Grace . The Duchess of Monmouth. 

May Anglesey think Bribery a Sin . Arthur Annesley, first Earl of 
Anglesey, a servant of his country during twenty years, cautious, 
laborious (though Wood gives to his writings the epithets “smooth, 
sharp and keen”), filled from 1673 until 1682 the post of Privy 
Seal, in the fulfilment of which he secured large sums of money. 
He was ever careful of his own interests, but whether he was guilty 
of receiving bribes is open to question. In 1668 his accounts were 
examined but no charge was sustained. 

Arlington . Henry Bennet, Earl of Arlington, was a member of the 
Cabal ministry. The charges brought against him in 1674 are 
significant of his character as a politician. (1) The constant and 
vehement promotion of popery. (2) Self-aggrandisement and em- 
bezzlement. (3) Frequent betrayal of trust. Hamilton writes of 
him: “ a l’abri de cette contenance composee d’une grande avidit£ 
pour le travail, et d’une impenetrable stupidite pour le secret, [il] 
s’etait donne pour grand politique.” Towards the end of his life 
Echard records that it was a common jest for some courtier to put 
a black patch upon his nose and strut about with a white staff in his 
hand. Arlington died in discredit on July 28th, 1685. 

May Arlington his little brat despise . “ A sweete child if ever there 
was any,” writes Evelyn in 1672. 

puzzling Howard. Edward Howard, brother of Sir Robert Howard, 
was the butt of some of the fiercest lampoons of the time. (See 
note, p. 356.) 

“ Ned Howard, in whom great Nature is found, 

Tho’ never took Notice of till that Day, 

Impatiently sat till it came to his Round, 

Then rose and commended the Plot of his Play.” 

[“ Session of the Poets.” Poems on Affairs of State , 1705.] 
Dorset’s brilliant apostrophe is better known : 

“ Thou damn’d Antipodes to Common-Sense.” 

( 383 ) 



p. 145, 1. 28. 

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p. 148, 1. 9. 


===== = & == 

Betty MackrelL Mackrell seems to be a nickname; the word is better 
known in French, “maquereau, maquerelle”; the meaning in 
this case seems to be 44 Betty, the procuress, or the bawd ” — possibly 
the well-known Betty Morris. 

Villain Franck . (See note, p. 365.) 

Mazarine . Hortense Mancini, Duchesse de Mazarine, niece of the 
Cardinal, came over to England in 1675, refused to become mistress 
to Charles II, but received from him a considerable pension (£4000). 
She was perfectly beautiful, and her talents were praised by Bayle, 
who writes of her: 46 Elle avait des charmes surprenants dans son 
esprit et ses manieres; elle avait de 1’ etude; elle aimait a lire; elle 
se plaisoit \ la conversation des savants ” ; and by the epicure Saint 
fivremond, her devoted attendant, many of whose works were 
written expressly for her. 44 Madame de Mazarine,” he writes, 
44 n’est pas plus tot arrivee en quelque lieu, qu’elle y etablit une 
maison qui fait abandonner toutes les autres; on y trouve la plus 
grande liberte, on y vit avec une egale discretion; chacun y est 
plus commodement que chez soi et plus respectueusement qu’a la 
cour. II est vrai qu’on s’y dispute souvent, mais c’est avec plus de 
lumiere que de chaleur; c’est moins pour contredire les personnes 
que pour eclairer les esprits. Le jeu qu’on y joue est peu considerable, 
et le seul divertissement y fait jouer.” She died at Chelsea in 1699. 

What upstart Fops in Julian's volumes are. (See note on Julian, p. 382.) 
Julian wrote Weekly News Letters to regular subscribers in the 
country. In Poems on Affairs of State he addresses Rochester’s ghost : 

44 Thou who through all thy Life hast shown 
A Love of Scandal equal to my own.” 

since Drunkenness has been Found Treason . In 1679 the Lord Mayor 
made a Proclamation : 44 . . . Every Drunkard is to pay for the 
first offence Five shillings, and in default thereof to sit six hours in 
the Stocks, and for the second offence to find sureties for the good 
behaviour, or to be committed to the common gaol. And the like 
punishment is to be inflicted upon all common haunters of ale- 
houses and taverns, and common gamesters and persons justly 
suspected to live by any unlawful means, having no visible living. 
And no person is to continue tipling or drinking more than one hour, 
unless upon some extraordinary occasion, in any tavern, victualling- 
house, ale-house, or other tipling house, upon the penalty of ten 
shillings for every offence upon the master of such house; and upon the 
person that shall so continue drinking, three shillings and four pence. 

The %yeen Street lewd inhabitant . Possibly Robert Spencer, Earl of 
Sunderland, who entertained the King’s mistresses at his house in 
Queen Street, and is known to have lost vast sums of money there 
to the Duchess of Portsmouth in 1671. 

The Tangier Bullies , Sheffield, Earl of Mulgrave, sailed for Tangier 
m June, 1680. 

C 384 ) 

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2 C 


The undiscerning and Impartial Moor. i.e. the inhabitants of Tangier. 

Sir George Hewit and Sir Carr Scrope. These two courtiers are 
constantly associated together in lampoons as being lady-killers 
and men about town. 

Shrewsbury . (See note, p. 366.) 

Plimouth . (i657?-i68o.) Charles Fitzcharles, Earl of Plymouth 

(“ Don Carlos ”), the illegitimate son of Charles II by Catherine 
Pegge. He married Lady Bridget Osborne, third daughter of the 
Duke of Leeds, in 1678, but died without issue at Tangier in 1680. 

Mor daunt. Charles Mordaunt, third Earl of Peterborough (1658— 
1735), admiral, general and diplomatist. (See note, p. 366.) 

Frazier . Alexander Fraser, the King’s physician, and a favourite at 
Court. He died in 1681. Munk describes him in the roll of the 
Royal College of Physicians as a man whose “ character was never 
of the highest.” He appears to have had the skill of a charlatan 
and the graces of a courtier. With his mercury and sudorifics he 
spent much of his time treating the ladies of the Court for various 
disreputable diseases. 

Lord Sunderland. Robert Spencer, the second Earl (1640-1 702), paid 
much attention to Charles II’s mistresses (1671-2) and was sent on 
embassies to Madrid and Paris. His marriage with Anne Digby 
brought him great wealth. He is rightly regarded as the most un- 
scrupulous and at the same time the most subtle politician of his age. 
His administration is anterior to the period of Rochester’s life. His 
name is connected with Laurence Hyde, the succeeding Earl of 
Rochester, who became a violent rival, and William Godolphin; 
they were known as the “ Chits.” [Cf. Dryden’s Young Statesman , 
sometimes attributed to Rochester.] 

Godolphin. William Godolphin, of Christ Church, Oxford. Secre- 
tary to Lord Arlington and M.P. for Camelford. He was a great 
favourite at Court, and was knighted on the 28th of August, 1668. 
It was said of him that he was never in the way, never out of it. 

Chit Lory . Laurence Hyde. 

Little Worth . Worth or Wroth was one of Monmouth’s Six Life- 
guards: Sir Thomas Sands, Captain O’ Brian, Parry, Reeves, Little 
Wroth, Lake. (Note in Roxburghe Ballads .) 

Kate. Katherine of Braganza, the Queen. (See note, p. 402.) 

Tangier ( like Maestrich) is at Windsor storm’d. A reference to a 
curious entertainment provided by the King for the entertainment 
of his mistresses at Windsor, which was a mimic representation of 
the storming of Maestrich. 

Where is he , etc. The Duke of Monmouth. (See note, p. 371.) 

{Armstrong and Vernon). Sir Thomas Armstrong (i624?-i 684), 
Gentleman of the Horse at the Restoration, and intimate with 
Monmouth. According to Burnet, “ he led a very vitious life.” 
For his part in the Rye-House Plot, Spratt describes him as “a 
debauch’d Atheistical Bravo.” James Vernon (1646-1727), Secre- 

( 3*5 ) 

• 5 ! 

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p. 149, 1. 43. 

p. 150, 1. 1. 

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p. 150, 1. 26. 

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p. 151,1. 3. 
p. 151, 1. 11. 


-- 3ft 

tary of State. In 1672 he was appointed secretary to the Duke of 
Monmouth, but resigned the office in 1678. 

Rosse. Tom Ross (the spelling varies: Ross, Rosse) was the Duke 
of Monmouth’s tutor. 

Proger’s Bastard . Edward Progers, 44 confidant des Menus plaisirs,” 
of Charles II, was for a time supposed to be the father of the 
Duke of Monmouth. It is certain that one of Progers’ children 
bore a striking resemblance to the King, so that both Progers and 
his master may be said to have had fair satisfaction of one another. 
Progers died in 1713 on the first day of the new year from the 
pain of cutting four new teeth. 

Brandon . Charles Gerard, Baron Brandon, Earl of Macclesfield 
(d. 1694). He was an adherent of the Duke of Monmouth, and 
was dismissed in 1681 from his position of Gentleman of the Bed- 
chamber for that reason. 

Buckingham . George Villiers, second Duke of Buckingham. (See 
note, p. 373.) 

All his exploits from Shrewsbury to Le Meer . The Shrewsbury exploit 
was his duel with the Earl of Shrewsbury, 16th January, 1667, as 
a result of which the Earl of Shrewsbury died and the Duke of 
Buckingham took possession of the Countess of Shrewsbury, who 
is said (though without foundation) to have held her lover’s horse 
during the fight, and afterwards went to bed with him stained with 
her husband’s blood. 44 His exploits at Le Meer ” evidently refers 
to his attempt to treat for peace with the Prince of Orange which 
was not successful. 

renouned Mazarine. (See note, p. 384.) 

Sussex 5 Brughilly Betty Felton . Three women who became famous for 
their intrigues. Anne, Countess of Sussex, was debauched at Paris by 
Montague, the English Ambassador. [Cf. Savile Correspondence in 
MSS. Longleat, July 2nd, 1 678.] (See note on Betty Felton, p. 379^ 

The great Pelean Youth . Alexander the Great. Pellean, for Alex- 
ander was born at Pella in Macedonia in 356 b.c. [Cf. Juvenal, 
Sat, X, 168 : “ TJnus Pellaeo iuveni non sufficit orbis.”~\ 

Lewd Messaline. Valeria Messalina, a descendant of Augustus and 
wife of the Emperor Claudius, who rivals Julia in reputation for 
licentiousness. She destroyed Silanus, a noble who rejected her 
advances; her undoing came with her intrigue with Gaius Silius, 
an ambitious aristocrat. She even devised a means of marrying him. 
Before he started on a journey, Claudius was warned by soothsayers 
that evil would befall the husband of Messalina, and accordingly he 
permitted a mock marriage with Silius. But before he had gone 
far his great freedman, Narcissus, informed him of the real state 
of affairs, and he returned to find them celebrating a vintage festival 
in riotous company. Silius was put to death at once, and Messalina 
was executed the next day by the orders of Narcissus, who feared 
that otherwise the emperor would relent [Cf. Juvenal, Sat . VI.] 

( 386 ) 


Notes on Alexander Bendo’s 

p. 155. Alexander Bendo's Advertisment . Alexander Bendo’s Advertisement 

is reprinted from the text in the 1691 edition of his poems. An 
advertisement, of a similar nature, prefixed to the 1710 edition of 
Sedley’s works and entitled “ Eximia Praedico,” has been falsely 
attributed to Rochester. ( Notes and £>yeries y VI 5 1, 496.) The 
publisher of the 1 7 1 1 edition of Rochester’s poems insists, in his 
Preface, on the correctness of the version presented here. 

• Quack doctors, charlatans, pedlars and astrologers were numerous 
in Western Europe at the end of the seventeenth century. They 
were able to impose themselves on the superstitious and simple- 
minded far into the eighteenth century. Casanova, several times 
a quack for his own amusement, represents in his Memoir es some of 
the frauds committed by them. It has been suggested that Rochester 
took upon himself the role of the celebrated Dutch astrologer Hans 

p. 156, 1 . 17. Qui alterum incus at probri. Plautus, Truc. y 1. 2. 58. 

p. 158. Aretine’s Dialogues . Cappricciosi epiacevoli Ragionamenti di M, Pietro 

Aretino . Parigi [Venezia], 1 5 34. According to the Rev. Montague 
Summers, the earliest English translation seems to be The Crafty 
Whore , London, 1658. Aretine’s sonnets, illustrated with the 
famous postures, were popular after the Restoration. 

( 387 ) 



Notes on Valentinian 

p. 164. 
p. 165, 1. 1. 

P . 174,1. 23. 

p- 175 , l 36. 

P . 1 75, 1. 36. 

P . 179,1.41. 

p. 184, 1. 9. 

p. 205, 1. 32. 
p. 220, 1. 23. 
p. 220, L 23. 

The name of Claudia, lady-in-waiting to Lucina, is misprinted among 
the Dramatis Personae of the quarto as Celandia. 

The Emperour . Valentinian, third emperor of that name, died in 
a.d. 445. He was entirely given up to pleasure, and was despised 
at Rome for his luxury and extravagance, which were an offence 
to the senate. The story of the violation of the wife of Petronius 
Maximus is founded on history; the drama shows little divergence 
from facts recorded by various historians. 

Nero . Roman emperor, a.d. 54-68. He was the son by adoption 
of Claudius; his succession was contrived by his mother, Agrippina, 
to the exclusion of Britannicus, whom he later put to death, together 
with his mother and his wife Octavia. He committed suicide on 
the revolt of Vindex and Galba. 

Tiberius. Tiberius Cassar, emperor, a.d. 14-3 7, was the stepson of 
Augustus. The chief figure of his reign was Sejanus his great 
minister, put to death, 31. His nature was cruel and suspicious, 
but probably he owes much of the discredit which is unjustly his 
to the genius of Tacitus. 

Caligula . Emperor, a.d. 37-41, son of Germanicus. His real name 
was Gaius. He ruled well for eight months; but the rest of his 
reign consisted of a series of monstrous crimes, till his murder by a 
tribune of the Praetorian Guard. 

Alexander's tutor. Alexander’s tutor was the philosopher Aristotle 
(384-322 b.c.), whose father had been physician to King Amyn- 
tas II. He was invited by Philip in 342 to undertake the education 
of his son then in his fourteenth year. He accepted, and became 
Alexander’s tutor until he came to the throne seven years later. 
Aristotle then returned to Athens. 

A Numa or greater than Octavius. Numa, the second King of Rome, 
was a Sabine of great sanctity; his reign was peaceful and devoted 
to the development of law and religion. He was fabled to receive 
advice from a nymph, Egeria. 

Octavius, the first emperor, grand-nephew of Julius Caesar, ruled 
from the defeat of his rival Antonius at Actium in 31 b.c. till his 
death in a.d. 14. 

The Rape of Lucrece. See Livy 1, 57 et seq. 

Messalina. (See note, p. 386.) 

Lais. Lais, the name of two famous Greek courtesans; the elder 
was probably Corinthian and lived in the time of the Peloponnesian 
War; the younger is said to have been born at Hycara in Sicily 
somewhat later. 

( 388 ) 


s 8 ?=»" 


p. 252, let. n. 

p. 252, let. 11. 
p. 252, let. hi. 

p 252, let. hi. 

p. 252, let. hi. 
p. 253, let. hi. 
p. 253, let. m. 
p. 253, let. hi. 
p. 253, let. hi. 

p. 254, let. iv. 

p. 254, let. iv. 
p. 254, let. iv. 

Notes on Letters 

1 wou'd make me . at the Session . The Earl of Rochester sat in 
Parliament with fair regularity during the last years of his life, 
and served on several committees. [Cf. Lords Journal.] A 
speech, made by him against the succession of the Duke of York, 
is recorded by Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, in whose works 
it is printed. [Works ... in two volumes. Printed for 
S. Briscoe, 1715.] 

Lord Lisle . Philip Sidney, who became, in 1677, third Earl of 

This letter was answered by Savile on November 1st, 1677. “ If 
your Lordship,” he writes, “ was as ill as you told mee in your 
letter, either you are a greater philosopher in bearing pain or a 
greater hypocrite in making it more than it is than we can 
ordinarily meet with in these parts. However the case stands, 
I was mighty glad to find a man both lame and blind could be 
soe merry.” 

Sir G. H. or Sir Carr . (See notes on George Hewit and Carr 
Scrope, p. 385.) 

For the hideous Deportment . (See Introduction, p. xli.) 

the king and the D. i.e. The king and the Duke of York. 

Coranto. The French “ Courante,” a running dance. 

Rosamund's Fountain. A fountain that stood in Saint James’s Park. 

The best Present 1 can make at this time is the Bearer . . . . Savile 
wrote, in answer to this letter: “ I obeyed your commands to 
His Majesty who has heard with very great delight Paisible’s 
new compositions, and was not lesse pleased att all the comple- 
ments you bestowed upon him.” [Cf. Longleat MSS.] 

Manchester' s flaunting it in Court . [Cf. Savile Correspondence, 
Longleat MS., Nov. 1st, 1677.] “ My Lord Manchester has 
to the astonishment of all his acquaintance a new suit, but it 
is black and therefore foully suspected it was left him by his 
sister Irwyn for mourning. Else his Majesty concludes that 
ceremony had been performed in the ancient russet his Lordship 
used to wear upon the like occasions.” 

this marriage, i.e. the marriage of the Prince of Orange to Mary, 
daughter of James, Duke of York by Anne Hyde. 

For the Libel you speak of. It seems probable that this is the satire 
printed in Poems on Affairs of State, Vol. II, 1703: ct A Satyr 
upon the Poets, being a Translation of the 7th Satyr of Juvenal.” 
It contains a reference to the Earl of Rochester: 

( 389 ) 


Sedley indeed, and Rochester might write 
For their own Credit, and their Friends’ Delight, 
Showing how far they cou’d the rest outdo, 

As in their Fortunes, so their Writings too. 

Savile had written : “ The whole tribe [of poets] are alarumed 
att a libell against them lately sent by the post to Will’s coffee 
house,” and suspected that one of Rochester’s guests at Wood- 
stock was the author. 

p. 255, let. v. Adderbury . (See Introduction, p. xxvi.) After Pope had slept in 

the Earl of Rochester’s bed at Adderbury House in 1739, he 
wrote these lines : 

“ With no poetic ardour fir’d 

I press the bed where Wilmot lay, 

That here he loved or here expir’d 
Begets no numbers, grave or gay.” 

p. 255, let. vi. Mr. Povy. Constantly mentioned by Pepys. He was First 
Treasurer of Tangier. Evelyn describes him as “ a nice con- 
triver of all elegancies, and exceedingly formal.” 

[Diary , Feb. 29th, 1675-6.] 

P* 2 55 > l et - vi. Tour Glorious Disgrace. Savile had been banished from Court after 
a quarrel with Lauderdale. 

P* 2 55 ) l et * vr. the Lady you wot of . . . . Savile, in a letter, dated June 4th, 1678, 
had related a piece of Court scandal : “ My Lady Hervey who 
allwayes loves one civill plot more, is working body and soule 
to bring Mrs. Jenny Middleton into play. How dangerous a 
new one is to all old ones I need not tell you, but her Ladyship, 
having little opportunity of seeing Charlemayne [Charles II] 
upon her owne account, wheadles poor Mrs. Nelly into supping 
twice or thrice a week at W. [Chiffinch’s] and carrying her with 
her; soe that in good earnest this poor creature is betrayed by 
her Ladyship to pimp against herself, for there her Ladyship 
whispers and contrives all matters to her own ends, as the other 
might easily perceive if shee were not too giddy to mistrust a 
false friend.” [Longleat MSS.] 

p. 256, let. vii. If Sack and Sugar be a Sin. Falstaff in Henry IV y Part I. Act II 

Scene 4, 17. ‘ 3 

If sack and sugar be a fault, God help the wicked! if to be 
old and merry be a sin, then many an old host that I know is 
damned : if to be fat be to be hated, then Pharaoh’s lean kine 
are to be loved.” 

[Cf. Savile’s answer, Bath MSS.] . . If the good 
gentleman who loved sack and shugar so well was soe luckey 
as to bring mee into your mind, I wish there were more of them 
though meethinks, since the death of poor Sir Simon Fanshawe 
that sorte of excellent breed is allmost extinguished, or att least 

( 39 ° ) 


soe farr decayed that except an old cavalier corporall that I 
beleeve you have seen begging in St. James’s Park, there is noe 
more any such person than a phoenix to bee found in these 

p. 256, let. vii. Lautherdale. Charles Maitland, third Earl, commissioner of 
Parliament for Edinburgh. 

p. 256, let. vii. The Monkey we have here. It is worth noting that one of the best 
portraits of Rochester, at Warwick Castle, represents him 
crowning a small ape with a laurel wreath. Monkeys were 
fashionable pets after the Restoration. (See letter from 
Artemisa ... to Cloe . . . p. 30, 1 . 14.) 

p. 256, let. vm Palaces in Leather Lane . In Leather Lane were situate the 
houses of the “ Mrs. Fourcards,” where sudorific and mercurial 
treatments were undertaken by unfortunate courtiers. Henry 
Savile, writing on July 2nd, 1678, from “Leather Lane in 
Hatton Garden ” (the letter to which Lord Rochester’s is an 
answer), says : “ Here I have chosen to finish the last act of a 
long tedious course of physic which has entertained me ever 
since December last. ... I confess I wonder at myself and 
that mass of mercury that has gone down my throat in 7 months, 
but should wonder more were it not for Mrs. Roberts for behold, 
a greater than I, she is in the same house.” (Bath MSS., 

p. 2565 let. vm. Barton and Ginman , They were attendants (skilled or otherwise 
is not certain) in the Palaces in Leather Lane. [Cf. Bath MSS., 
Longleat, June 2nd, 1678.] “ As for me, writes Henry Savile, 
you cannot but have heard the misfortunes that have befallen 
both my body natural and body politic. How I have been sac- 
rificed to that filthy dog Lauderdale and how the returns of my 
. . pains have thrown me back to dry mutton and diet drink. 

. . How soon, his Majesty, will deliver me from the one and 
Mr. Barton from the other, lies in the one’s royal breast and in 
the other’s skill chirurgical.” 

p, 256, let. vni. Mrs. Roberts . One of King Charles’s mistresses, who for a time 
gave her heart to Rochester, but found that it was not in her 
power to hold his affections for long. “ The Lady,” it is 
recorded, “ after the first indignations of her Passion subsided, 
grew as indifferent, and considered upon the proper means of 
retrieving the King’s Affections. The Occasion was luckily 
given her one morning while she was dressing: she saw the 
King coming by, she hurried down with her hair dishevelled, 
threw herself at his feet, implored his Pardon, and vowed con- 
stancy for the Future. The King, overcome with the well- 
dissembled Agonies of this Beauty, raised her up, took her in 
his Arms, and protested no Man could see her, and not love her. 
He waited on her to her Lodging, and there completed the 

( 391 ) 

»T— ’ 

p. 256. 

p. 257, let. ix. 

p. 258, let. xi. 

p. 259, let. xi. 

p. 259, let. xl 
p. 259, let xii. 

p. 260, let. xii. 
p. 260, let. xii. 

p. 260, let. xh. 


g g a ) • 

envious F . i.e. Fanshaw, who likewise was undergoing a 

course of treatment. “ The other day,” writes Savile (July 2nd, 
1678), “ Mr. Fanshaw came and made a third with us, but will 
have his worse pox than ours passe for the scurvy out of civility 
to his lady, though the rogue bee a filthier leaper than ever was 
cured in the gospell, and without another pool of Bethesda or 
another Saviour hee is the most incurable animall that now 
crawles upon the earth.” 

Tour Journey to France. Henry Savile was sent over to France 
“on a private concern” on July i4/i5th, 1678, with Lord 
Sunderland. [Cf. Belvoir MSS., Vol. II, p. 52.] Ill-health 
prevented Lord Rochester from fulfilling his intentions of 
travelling abroad and of passing the winter at Montpelier, 
whither Savile had directed him. 

The severity, you say, the D. of Portsmouth shows to me. . . . Evi- 
dently as a result of the rumour which had arisen of her having 
been in part responsible for the “Rose Alley” affair. (See 
Introduction, p. xlii.) 

Mr. Shepheard. This is Fleetwood Sheppard, a friend of Roches- 
ter’s, an important figure in the inner history of the Court. 
Antony Wood writes of him : “ After Eleanor Quinn or Guinn 
had a natural son by Charles II, Fleetwood Sheppard became her 
Steward, and afterwards to that natural child called Charles, 
Earl of Burford (since D. of St. Albans), and managed all their 
concerns. So that by that Employment coming to the know- 
ledge of the said King, he became one of his Companions in 
private to make him merry.” (Athena: Oxoniensis.) 

Lord Halifax. George Savile (1633-1695), brother of Henry 
Savile, and biographer of Charles II. He was one of the most 
able statesmen of his age. 

the Present you sent me. Savile had dispatched from Paris, in April, 
167?, “a pott of Aigre de Cedre, and two bottles of Syrope de 
Capilaire, both great coolers ... a bottle of poudre de cypre 
to keep the ladyes heades sweet, and a bottle of myrtle water to 
keep their tailes straight. . . .” The letter that is referred to 
by Lord Rochester is among the manuscript correspondence at 
Belvoir Castle. 

D. H. i.e. Duke Hamilton. 

What the D. of Monmouth will effect , etc. This refers to the Duke 
of Monmouth’s expedition into Scotland in the s umm er 0 f 1 679, 
which resulted in the battle of Bothwell Bridge. [Cf. “ On the 
Duke of Monmouth’s Expedition into Scotland in the Summer 
Solstice, 1678 (sic. for 1679) ” in Edmund Waller’s Po ems , 
Part II, 1690.3 The expedition is the subject of numerous 
contemporary pieces, and is intimately connected with the 
Jack Presbyter ” lampoons. 

Mr. Longhorn. Richard Langhorn, a Counsellor-at-Law, a victim 

( 392 ) 


« - — 1 — <£& -' ! ■' 

of Titus Oates, who accused him of possessing incriminating 
“Commissions.” He was tried on June 14th, 1679, and 
condemned to death. The Popish plot, like the Dreyfus affair, 
stirred up all conditions of men, and more satires were written 
about it than about any other subj ect. One of the most important 
(reference to Larighorn occurs in the ninth stanza) is “ A Narra- 
tive of the Popish Plot,” printed among 180 Loyal Songs, 1685, 
which begins : 

“ Good People, I pray, give ear unto me, 

A story so strange you have never been told. 

How the Jesuit, Devil and Pope did agree, 

Our State to destroy, and Religion so old ” : 

p. 260, let. xn, 
p. 260, let. xn. 

p. 260, let. xii. 
p. 260, let. xii. 

p. 260, let. x*is 

p. 260, let. xii. 

Mr, P , Possibly Miles Prance, the perjurer. (See note, p. 382.) 

Your high Protestancy in Paris, Savile had been sent as envoy to 
Paris in 1 679 on the return of the ambassador, Algernon Sydney. 
“ In this capacity he seems to have exercised unwonted dis- 
cretion. He sent home some valuable reports of the French 
Government’s treatment of the Protestants during the important 
years preceding the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, and 
pressed upon the English Council, with some success, the 
adoption of measures to facilitate the reception of Protestant 
immigrants into England.” (. Dictionary of National Biography,) 

Mr, S, Mr. Sheppard. (See note, p. 392.) 

Sir William Coventry (i628?-i686). “ A wise and witty gentle- 
man,” an intimate friend of Pepys. Burnet speaks of him as 
“ a man of great actions and eminent virtues, the best speaker 
in the House.” 

the unfortunate Pilgrims, The story of the unfortunate pilgrims 
is told by Savile in a letter, in which he upbraids Rochester for 
neglecting to answer letters. “ After all I will hope that there 
is noe more in this matter than a little idle remissnesse to our 
absent friends, to which God knows the frailty of our poor 
natures does too much expose us all, but for a mortall sinner in 
this kind commend mee to that stinking whelpe Sheppard to 
whom I recommended a lady’s concern three monthes since 
without ever having heard more of him, or her either, but that 
goeing in pilgrimage to Loretto shee with two other worthy 
persons of the same sex and nation, were robbed, stript of their 
men’s cloathes, and beeing discovered to bee shee-pilgrims were 
layd in jayl.” [Letter, dated Paris, June 30th, 1679. MSS. 

that Fair Unfortunate , She remains anonymous, although she is 
mentioned by Savile in the letter where he describes the adven- 
ture of “ the unfortunate Pilgrims.” “ But not to entertain 
you,” he writes, “ with ladyes you doe not know, the inclosed 
was sent mee yesterday by one you doe know, I have not seen 

( 393 ) 


p. 261, let. xm. 
p. 261, let. xm. 

p. 262, let. xiv. 

p. 262, let. xiv. 
PJ262, let. xiv. 

p. 262, let. xiv. 

p. 262, let. xiv. 

p. 262, let. xiv. 

p. 262, let. xiv. 


= =""'■ J£Ll -==££& = = =» 

her, nor heard of her till shee had need of my conveyance for this 
letter to your Lordship. I doubt shee is a great object of charity. 
I am sure shee had had mine if shee had sent for it, for I allwayes 
thought her one of the most unfortunate and most meritorious 
of all the numerous train of clean and unclean that have gone 
into William Chi flinch his arke or my Lord Manchester’s 

Godfrey . (See note, p. 402.) 

Black and Fair Countess, Barbara, Duchess of Cleveland (see 
note, p. 369), was distinguished for her beauty 5 her hair was 
dark and her eyes were blue. 

Gy arts et car cere digna. Juvenal, Satire , I ? 73. Aude aliquid 
brevibus Gyaris aut carcere dignum . Gyrus was a desolate island 
in the iEgean to which prisoners were sent. Epictetus speaks 
of it as a type of desolation. [See also Tacitus, Ann, III, 68—69.] 

Mr, Baptist, “ This pretty fool the Bearer ” was probably the 
Earl of Rochester’s valet, John Baptist Bell Dosse. 

Lord S, Viscount Stafford, who was accused by Oates of being 
treasurer of the Catholic Army, and by others of wishing to 
assassinate Charles II. He was beheaded in 1 680. [Cf. A True 
Narrative of the Horrid Plot and Conspiracy of the Popish Party , 
by Titus Oates, 1680.] 

George Porter. A companion of Rochester and Savile in their 
revelries. Savile mentions him in two of his letters (Bath MSS.), 
Dec. 17th, 1677: 66 George Porter has been here a fortnight 
and is allready three surfeits before you, one of spratts, one of 
tripes, and the third of Newarke ale. . . June 25th, 1678 : 

“ George Porter about a fortnight since brought a little stock 
of Berkshire health to toune which he has since swilled away 
in tavernes, and now lyes soaking in bedd for more breath.” 

Mr. Grimes . (Robert Graham, died 1701) was a Colonel and 
Trappist monk. He and his brother were two of the most 
scandalous libertines at Court. His excesses are said to have 
startled London, Flanders and Paris. In the reign of James II, 
when the Court was at St. Germain, he was regarded as the 
most accomplished scoundrel of his time. After alternate fits 
of rioting and fasting, of drink and religion, he entered the 
Monastery of La Trappe, where he became one of the most 
ingenious and cruel self-tormentors. His death — one may call 
it suicide — deprived the English Court of one of its most 
edifying attractions. 

Lady D 3 s death. Possibly Lady Denham, whose death was 

caused by an infusion of poison in chocolate. Rochester’s mother 
is said to have been implicated in this affair. 

Lady P s and Capt . Dangerfield . Lady Powis’ husband was 
one of the Lords imprisoned in the Tower upon the accusation 
of Oates, Prance and their complices in the Popish Plot. Captain 

( 394 ) 



— = ■ as? — = 

Dangerfield was one of their assistants. [Cf. “ The Examina- 
tion of the Countess of Powis, in Mr. Tho. Dangerfield’s 
particular Narrative of the late Popish Design.” London, 1 679.] 
p. 263, let. xv. Mr. Oates . The notorious Titus Oates. See p. 53 of Captain 

Dangerfield’s narrative, 46 Sir James Butler owned the taking 
of an Affidavit of Lane about Buggery* charged upon Mr. 
Oates.” In 1674, while curate to his father at All Saints’, 
Hastings, a similar charge was brought up by him and his father 
against a local schoolmaster, but the indictment was quashed 
and Oates was arrested in an action for j£iooo damages, 
p. 263, let. xv. I have sent you herewith a lihel> etc. The reference is to the 
famous 66 Essay on Satire,” written by Mulgrave, Duke of 
Buckingham, which contained libellous remarks about Roches- 
ter’s conduct. The result of its coming to his notice was the 
assault on the harmless, irresponsible Dryden. (See Introduc- 
tion, p. xlii . ) In a “ Satire on the Poets,” in Poems on Affairs 
of State , these interesting lines conclude the poem : 

“ More I could say, but care not much to meet, 

A Crabtree Cudgell in a narrow Street.” 

p. 263, let. xv. 

p. 264, let. xvi. 
p. 264, let. xvi. 

p. 264, let. xvi. 
p. 267. 

My own share in it. See the Introduction for the reference to 
Lord Rochester in this satire. 

That 1 am out of favour with a certain Poet . i.e. John Dryden. 

my Lord L[ov el ac e] 3 s generous Philosophy. It is possible that it was 
not Lord Lovelace’s philosophy to which Rochester referred 
but Lord Leicester’s, which expressed itself in three words: 
“ ’tis all one.” But it is difiicult to reconcile these words (which 
were spoken in 1677 when Philip Sidney became Earl of 
Leicester) with Rochester’s reference to Dryden and “ Black 
Will with a Cudgell ”, which certainly belongs to the year 1679. 
I am inclined, therefore, to believe that Rochester was thinking 
of a particular friend and neighbour, Lord Lovelace, and a 
particular enemy, Lord Mulgrave. “The declining D.” is 
the Duchess of Portsmouth, who was passing through a serious 
illness at that time. 

Alderman G y. Research has not identified this person. It 

may have been the courtier Godfrey. He is referred to else- 
where. [Cf. letters x and xi.] 

Mrs. Barry. Rochester’s mistress. The story of her life is one 
of the most romantic passages in the history of the Court and 
of the Stage under Charles II. Dryden writes of her in his 
Preface to Cleomenes: “ Mrs. Barry, always excellent, has in 
this Tragedy excell’d herself, and gain’d a Reputation, beyond 
any Woman I have ever seen on the theatre.” At one period 
Otway tried to engage her favour, without success. For a 
further account of this remarkable woman, refer to the Intro- 
duction (p. xxxiii). 

( 395 ) 

P. 268, let. xxii. 
p. 269, let. xxvi. 

p. 272, let. xxxiii. 

p. 280, let. lv. 

p. 280, let. jlv. 
p. 280, let. lv. 


Mrs . N ’s. This is probably Mrs. Nunn. (See note, p. 402.) 

Your safe delivery . In 1677 a daughter was born to Rochester by 
Mrs. Barry. The child, for whom Rochester showed a real 
affection, lived to the age of fourteen. [Cf. Savile Correspon- 
dence, Longleat MSS., December 17th, 1677]: 44 The greatest 
news I can send you from hence is what the King told me last 
night that your Lordship has a daughter born by the body of 
Mrs. Barry of which I give your Honour Joy. I doubt she 
does not lie in much state, for a friend and protectress of hers 
in the Mall was much lamenting her poverty very lately, not 
without some gentle reflections on your lordship’s want, either 
of generosity or bowels towards a lady who did not refuse you 
the full enjoyment of her charms.” 

The Duke’s Play-house. This theatre was hurriedly built soon 
after the Restoration, when permission was given for the acting 
of plays. It was placed on the site of a tennis-court on the 
south side of Lincoln’s Inn Fields. It was popularly called 
“ the Opera,” from the nature of the performances given there. 
For illustrations of it, see the engravings to the Empress of 
Morocco, 1675. 

De Ruyter and East India Fleet. Michael de Ruyter, a famous 
Dutch admiral, was born in 1607. He was an extremely active 
man, and while in charge of a small fleet, sailing round the 
coast of England, did as much damage as the whole of the Dutch 
Fleet did in any of their larger engagements. He died on the 
26th April, 1676, of wounds received in a fight with the 
French off Syracuse. 

Bergen . The naval engagement against the Dutch was fought in 
the harbour of Bergen in August of the year 16655 Rochester 
volunteered his services. (See Introduction, p. xxiii.) 

Lord Sandwich. Sir Edward Montague, born in 1625, died 
in action against the Dutch in Southwold Bay on May 28th, 

1 67 2. Evelyn deplores his loss : “ One of the best accomplish’d 
persons, not onely of this Nation, but of any other. He was 
learned in sea affairs, in politics, in mathematics and in musiq : 
he had been on divers embassies, was of a sweete temper, sober, 
chast, ingenious, a true Nobleman, an ornament to the Court 
and loyal to his Prince, nor has he left any behind him who 
approach his many virtues. He had, I confesse, serv’d the 
tyrant Cromwell when a young man, but ’twas without malice, 
as a souldier of fortunes and he readily submitted, and that with 
joy, bringing an entire fleete with him from the Sound at the 
first tidings of his Majestie’s Restauration. I verily believe 
him as faithful a subject as any that were not his friends.” 
(May 31st, 1672.) 

Sir Thomas Teddeman (died 1668). English vice-admiral. In 
May, 1664, be commanded the Revenge , the ship on which 
( 396 ) 

p. 281, let. lv. 


Lord Rochester fought at Bergen in 1665. Teddeman was on 
board the Royal Catherine at that engagement, and in the four 
days’ fight in the following year, June 1-4. 

p. 281, let. lv. Mr. Mountegue. (See Introduction, p. xxiii.) This was Edward 
Montague [cf. Arlington Letters , II, 87], formerly Master of 
the Horse to the Queen, and brother of Ralph Montague, who 
took an active part in the prosecution of the Popish Plot in 1678, 
and at the Revolution, and who died, Marquis of Monthermer, 
Duke of Montague, in 1709. 

p 281, let. lv. Thomas Windham 9 s Brother. Little is known of this person. He 
was probably the brother of Sir William Wyndham, baronet, 
who is mentioned in Rochester’s Will as a trustee. 

p. 282, let. lvi. Mrs. Fourcards . “ This Lady was the proprietress of a bathing 

establishment, possibly a kind of convalescent home for the 
sufferers from the pox, where they could sweat the disease out 
of their system.” [Cf. MS. Harleian 6913, p. 166.] 

“ ’Twas Foorcard kill’d thee and not I, 

O destructive Mercury ! ” 

p. 282, let. lvi. Lady Anne. The Earl of Rochester’s first child, by his wife. She 
was baptized August 30th, 1669. She was married, first to 
Henry Baynton of Wiltshire, Esq., and secondly to Francis 
Greville, son of F ulke Lord Brook. 

p. 282, let. lvii. Lady Warr\e\ The Earl of Rochester’s mother-in-law. 

p. 282, let. lvii. The Duchess of Richmond will lose an eye. She was badly dis- 
figured by an attack of smallpox in 1668. 

p. 282, let. lvii. Dutchess of Monmouth. “The charming Annabel” (Dryden), 
was Lady Anne Scott, of great fortune, only daughter of Francis, 
Earl of Buccleugh. She was betrothed to “ Mr. Croft ” at the 
age of thirteen; unhappiness was the only fruit of their union. 
“ She was a virtuous and excellent lady, who brought him great 
riches and a second dukedom in Scotland.” (Evelyn.) Pepys 
records the elegance of her dancing and the accident mentioned 
by Rochester: “Feb. 3rd, 1664-5 — a masquerade before the 
King and Court the other day, where six women (my Lady 
Castlemaine and the Duchess of Monmouth being two of them) 
and six men ... in vizards, but most rich and antique dresses, 
did dance admirably and most gloriously. God give us cause to 
continue the Mirth.” A later entry, May 9th, 1668: We 
are told that, last night, the Duchesse of Monmouth, dancing 
at her lodgings, hath sprained her thigh.” May 15th: “The 
Duchesse of Monmouth’s hip is, I hear, now set again, after 
much pain.” “ My Lady Duchesse of Monmouth is still lame 
and likely always to be so; which is a sad chance for a young 
lady to get, only by trying of tricks in dancing.” Her husband 
openly misconducted himself with Lady Henrietta Wentworth 
at this lady’s home at Toddington Manor in Bedfordshire, 

( 397 ) 


p. 282, let. lvii. 
p. 283, let. lix. 

p. 284, let. lix. 
p. 286, let. lxvii. 

p. 287, let. lxix. 
p. 288, let. lxx. 

p. 288, let. lxxi. 

p. 289, let. lxxiii. 

p. 289, let. lxxiii. 


■ . . , s&: . ■ . . »• 

leaving his wife to intercede for him with the King and the 
Duke of York. She was received by her husband in prison, 
coldly at first, but with more affections when his children were 
brought to him, “ all crying about him.” But in the last hours 
of his life Monmouth’s thoughts were with the Lady Henrietta, 
to whom he sent his latest tokens, speaking of her with the 
utmost tenderness. The Duchess married again Charles, Lord 
Cornwallis, and died at the age of eighty-one in 1732. 

Puppy-dog water . The urine of certain animals was valued as an 
ingredient in cosmetics. 

The Sad Accident of Madame* s Death . Henriette d’Angleterre, 
sister of King Charles II, and the subject of one of Bossuet’s 
most magniloquent funeral orations. King James in his diary 
writes: “ On the 22nd of June [1670] the news of the Duchess 
of Orleans’ death arrived. It was suspected that counter-poisons 
were given her; but when she was opened, in the presence of 
the English ambassador, the Earl of Ailesbury, an English 
physician and surgeon, there appeared no grounds of suspicion of 
any foul play.” [Macpherson’s Papers, I. See also Appendix 
to Arlington Letters.'] 

The Ranger . i.e. the Ranger of Woodstock Park, Sir William 

Somerset. The home of Rochester’s wife’s family was at Enmore 
in that county, where he owned estates. He seems to have visited 
them regularly, and in the last months of his life rode there 
post, but fell into a decline and was carried to his home at Wood- 
stock to die. He was Deputy- Lieutenant of the county, and 
an alderman of its chief town, Taunton. There is a royal grant 
to his children, permitting them to navigate on the canal 
between Bridgwater and Taunton. 

Blancourt . The Earl of Rochester’s attorney. 

My Aunt and my good XJnkle. Sir Walter St. John and Lady St. 

Lord Willmott. Charles, the Earl of Rochester’s second child and 
heir. (See note, p. 399.) 

Cannington . Three miles from Bridgwater in Somersetshire, and 
near the Earl of Rochester’s estates at Enmore. 

The King* s Evil. Daines Barrington in his Observations on the 
more ancient statutes gives an account of a conversation he had 
with an old naan who was supposed to have been cured, but who 
observed with a significant smile “that he believed himself 
never to have had a complaint that deserved to be considered as 
the evil: but that his parents were poor, and had no objection 
to a bit of gold.” Barrington continues : “ It seems to me that 
this piece of gold which was given to those who were touched 
accounts for the great resort on this occasion (Queen Anne at 
Oxford) and the supposed afterwards miraculous cures.” 

( 398 ) 


p. 290, let. lxxiv. Rake Hells . According to the New English Dictionary this expres- 
sion was in common use from r. 1 550-1 725 to denote an y utterly 
dissolute person. Cf Mackenzie, Siege of Londonderry^ 1690: 
46 These Rake-hells (who were the very scum of the country) ” ; 
and New Bath Guide (1766): “Brother Simpkin’s grown a 
rake-hell, Cards and dances ev’ry day.” 

p. 290, let. lxxvi. Newmarket . The race-course at Newmarket was one of Charles IPs 
favourite resorts. Horse-racing, indeed, was the most popular 
pastime of the Court. It was in the town of Newmarket that 
a comic adventure befell King Charles. He was taken to see 
a woman of the place by Lord Rochester who made himself 
responsible for repaying her for her kindness. He disappeared, 
however, leaving his master embarrassed in a strange house with 
nothing about him except his signet ring. This he pledged, 
but the woman refused to accept it, seeing so rich a jewel and 
fearing that it was most likely counterfeit, until a goldsmith 
had been summoned, who immediately computed its value. 
Falling on his knees, he cried that nobody but the King would 
carry so priceless a stone, and prayed for pardon. The woman 
did likewise; pardon was granted, and the King was able to 
depart unmolested. [Cf. Hare, History of Newmarket.] 

p. 292, let. lxxix. Mr. Cary. John Cary of Woodstock, esquire, one of the Earl 
of Rochester’s executors, and signatory to the Codicil of 
his Will. [Cf. Wills from Doctors’ Commons, Camden 

p. 293, let. lxxxi. Dr. Wetherley. Sir Thomas Witherley, M.D., Cambridge, 1655. 

Physician-in-Ordinary to the King, Fellow of the Royal 
College of Physicians 9 th April, 1677, and President, 1 6S4-5-6-7. 
He was a signatory to the Earl of Rochester’s Will. He died 
on March 23rd, 1693-4. (Munck, The Roll of the Royal 
College of Physicians^ London, 1861.) 

p.296, let. lxxxviii. Charles. Son and heir to the Earl of Rochester, was baptized 
January 2nd, 1670. He seems to have been a sickly child, and 
died prematurely at the age of twelve on November 12th, 1681 ; 
he was buried by his father’s side in the family vault at Spilsbury. 
“Young Lord Rochester, who although scarce ten years old, 
is of parts beyond twenty, and of whose life Dr. Radcliffe is 
hopeless.” [November 1 2th, 1681. Ormonde MSS., Kilkenny 

p. 297, let. xc. Sir John Warre . The Earl of Rochester’s uncle and brother of 
Sir Francis Warre, who was present at the reading of the Earl 
of Rochester’s Will, July 27th, 1680. 

p. 297, let. xci. Lord Lichfield. Sir Edward Henry Lee of Ditchley, who married 
Lady Charlotte Fitzroy, natural daughter of Charles II by 
Barbara Villiers. He held various offices connected with 
Woodstock Park and town. 

p. 298, let. xcm. The Earl of Essex. Arthur Capel (1631—1683). 

( 399 ) 


* OS? = s- 

p. 298, let. xciv. Dr . Pierce (1622-1691). Master of Magdalen College, Oxford, 
and afterwards Dean of Salisbury. 

p. 299, let. xcv. Letter to Doctor Burnet . “ The Earl of Rochester’s letter to 

Doctor Burnet as he lay on his death-bed at his lodge in Wood- 
stock Park, wrote by his own hand June y* 25, 1680, at 12 at 
night.” Rochester was buried at Spilsbury on August 9th, and 
his mother’s chaplain, Robert Parsons, M. A., preached a funeral 
sermon, which was afterwards printed at Oxford in quarto. 
His Will was proved on the 23rd of February, 1680. He left 
four thousand pounds to each of his three daughters, one hun- 
dred and fifty pounds to a Mrs. Patience Russell, a year’s wages 
and a suit of mourning to the servants employed by him at the 
time of his death. To his valet, John Baptist Bell Dosse, he 
gave all his “ cloathes, lynnen, and other things expressed in an 
inventarie in his keeping.” He expressed, also, a wish that there 
should be a “ happie correspondencie betweene my deare mother 
and my deare wife ” : they were appointed guardians to his son 
Charles. To an infant child (possibly Mrs. Barry’s daughter) 
he left an annuity of forty pounds. The executors were his 
wife, Sir Walter St. John, Sir Allen Apsley, Sir Richard How 
and John Cary. The Will was signed by William Fanshawe, 
Thomas Witherley, Robert Parsons, John Dyke, Robert Jacob. 
A codicil was added on June 22nd, 1680, and his valet was a 
signatory to it. The Will was read on July 27th, 1680, “in 
the presence of the right Hon ble Ann Countess- Dowager of 
Rochester, Elizabeth Countess of Rochester and of John Cary, 
in the presence of Fra. Warre, Isabella Wheate, Martha Gey.” 
[Wills from Doctors’ Commons, Camden Society, 1863, p. 138.] 

( 400 ) 


Notes on Appendices 

p. 304. “ The Encouragement .” In Michael Drayton’s Heroic Epistle of King 

John to Matilda are these lines: 

44 Th’ Arabian bird which never is but one. 

Is only chast, because she is alone: 

But had our mother nature made them two, 

They would have done as Doves and Sparrows do.” 

My attention was drawn to this plagiarism by the article on Drayton 
in Biographia Brittanica , Volume III, 1750 {q-v.). 
p. 305, L 20. Swan . 44 This gentleman, who was as great a gambler as a punster, 
regaled with his quibbles the minor class of the frequenters of Will’s 
coffee house, who, having neither wit enough to entitle them to 
mix with the critics who associated with Dryden, and were called 
6 The Witty Club,’ or gravity enough to discuss politics with those 
who formed the Grave Club, were content to laugh heartily at the 
puns and conundrums of Captain Swan.” [Note, p. 97, Vol. XIII, 
Dryden’s Works , 1808.] 

p. 305,1. 20. Chevins [i6o2?-i688]. This is the notorious William Chiffinch, 
confidant of the King’s amours, and scandalmonger of the 46 back- 
stairs.” He was a Page of the Bedchamber, Keeper of the King’s 
Private Closet, and receiver of His Majesty’s French Pension. 
Pepys frequently mentions him, and on one occasion was taken to 
see 44 a great variety of brave pictures in the King’s closet which 
Chiffinch knew how to commend,” and sometimes they held together 
a revel 44 over wines and pickled herring or cold chickens.” Like 
May, he had considerable sums of money passing through his hands. 
There are more than fifty entries to his name in the Secret Service 
list of the reigns of Charles II and James I. 44 Purchase of wines, 
presents of hawks, payment for flowers, red coats for falconers, 
paving Windsor, curious clocks, dog kennels, pump work and water 
carriage in Hyde Park ” are some of the items paid for by him. 
Altogether more than ,£14,000 was handed over to him. 
p. 305, 1 . 21. Mrs . Villiers . Elizabeth, Countess of Orkney (1657-1733), sister 
of 44 Ned” Villiers, first Earl of Jersey, envoy in Holland and at 
Paris, accompanied Princess Mary to Paris as lady-in-waiting in 
1677. [Cf. Savile’s Letters, Bath MSS.] She became mistress of 
the Prince of Orange. She outlived this period by many years, 
her days being fully occupied with political intrigues, 
p. 305, 1 . 43* Buckhurst 9 s private, artful Whore . Nell Gwyn, who was Buckhurst s 
mistress after her intrigue with Charles Hart, the actor. Buckhurst 
removed her from theTheatre Royal, according to P epys, on July 1 3th, 
2D ( 401 ) 

p. 306,1. 5. 

p. 306, 1. 15. 

p. 306, 1. 21. 
p. 306, 1. 24. 

p. 306, 1. 27. 

P- 307 ) 1 - 3 - 

P- 307, 1 - & 

p.307,1. 7. 

P- 3 ° 7 j 1 - * 7 - 
p. 307, 1. 21. 
p. 307, 1. 25. 
p. 307, 1. 30. 
P- 308,1. 5. 
p. 308,1. 17. 
p. 303, 1. 21. 

p. 3x0. 


c8? = »• 

1667, and kept 64 merry house” with her at Epsom, but is said to 
have cut her off a month later, August 26th, when Hart’s former 
admiration also turned to hatred. 

Let him remain in Otway’s care . Nell Gwyn’s son, Charles Beauclerk, 
whose tutor was Sir Fleetwood Sheppard, is said to have had part 
of his education entrusted to Otway. 

And she fleering in thy face. i.e. laughing coarsely or scornfully. The 
word is of Scandinavian origin. (N.E.D.) 

Mall Hinton was a well-known woman of the town. 

Dryden not mouze a whore. I am uncertain whether this refers to 
Dryden’s love-affair with the actress Reeve (see note, p. 380), or 
whether it is simply abusive and untrue. 

Tartar Cox . Miss Cox was a woman of the Town: little is recorded 
of her. She may have been the actress who played in Dryden’s 
Marriage a la Mode . 

Old Portugal Kate. Katharine of Braganza ( 1 638-1705) was married 
to Charles II on May 21, 1661. She took little part in either the 
political or social life of the times, but endured much at the hands 
of the King and of his favourites. Like Patience on a monument, 
she taught herself to suffer in silence and with discretion, and Pepys 
relates that she never entered her dressing-room without warning, 
for fear of surprising her consort in the arms of her waiting women. 
She was a devoted tea drinker, and her tastes were simple, though 
possibly dowdy. 44 Though not overcharming,” writes. Pepys, 44 she 
had a good modest and innocent look.” She died of colic, while 
Regent of Portugal, on the last day of the year 1 705. 

Godfrey’s Crane . Arabella Churchill. (See note, p. 403.) She had 
a scraggy neck and long legs, and resembled a crane. She married 
Charles Godfrey. 

Aunt Nunn . Madam Nunn, an attendant on Queen Catherine, and 
sister of the celebrated Mr. ChifEnch. (See note, p. 401.) Pepys 
met her at dinner 26th May, 1669. 

Villiers. (See note, p. 401.) 

Godolphin. (See note, p. 385.) 

Temple . (See note, p. 380.) 

Chijfinch. (See note, p. 401.) 

Modest Betty. Betty Felton. (See note, p. 379.) 

Little Jockey. (See note, p. 374.) 

More able than Dragon i than Darcey or Gee . These names seem to 
refer to race-horses, the training of which was the pastime of many 
noblemen and of the King himself. Charles was often at New- 
market (see note, p. 399 ) ^ or the horse-races. At Woodstock races 
on September 16th, 1679, Lord Rochester won the Woodstock 
Plate (Lord Anglesey’s Diary). 

The Tune of an old Man with a Bedfull of Bones. This is the same tune 
as Cock Lorrel, or Cook Lawrel.” It is given this title in 
The Dancing Master. 44 An Old Man is a bed full of Bones,” 
( 402 ) 


p. 3io,l. 7 - 

p. 310, L xx. 
p. 310,1. 17. 

p. 31 1, 1. 11. 
p. 3X2,1. 7. 

p. 312,1. XI. 

p. 312, 1. 12. 
p.312,1 13. 

p. 3I2 5 1. 23. 

4 * 

P* 3 l 3 > 1 - 3 *- 


22ZSSS2* - . — ' 1 '"^ - . m , = .. ^SS=t 

from a song in Rowley’s A Match at Midnight . [Chappell, Popular 
Music, , 1, 160.] 

Whetstone's Park “ is a narrow roadway between the north side of 
Lincoln’s Inn Fields and the south side of Holborn, named after 
William Whetstone, tobacconist and overseer of the parish of St 
Giles-in-the-Fields in Charles I reign and during the Common- 
wealth.” (Wheatley.) “ An unsavoury neighbourhood, now ele- 
vated into a mews, but formerly notorious for the Doll Tearsheet 
Sisterhood.” [Note to the Roxburghe Ballads .] 

Tetuan . The only open port of Morocco on the Mediterranean. 

A lady fair, who from Dunghill was rais'd to a player . Nell Gwyn, 
whose origin is somewhat uncertain. (See note, p. 370.) 

The Tartar, i.e. Miss Cox, to whom this epithet was regularly applied. 

Richmond. F ranees Stuart, Duchess of Richmond (“ La Belle Stuart”), 
one of the most celebrated women at the Court, renowned for her 
beauty and love of intrigue. She refused to become a Royal Mistress, 
and eloped with the Duke of Richmond. Pepys and Hamilton 
record many of the events in her life. 

Mistress Buckley . Lady Sophia Bulkley, sister of “ La Belle Stewart ” 
and wife of the Honourable Henry Bulkley, Master of the House- 
hold. Saint fivremond writes of her: “ [Elle] faisoit la Prude, et 
affectoit de paraitre ddvote quoi-qu’elle ne fut point ennemi de la 

Godolphin . (See note, p. 361.) 

Arundell. She is mentioned as one of the courtesans of Whitehall in 
46 Rochester’s Ghost.” [Poems on Affairs of State.] 

“ And here, would time permit me, I could tell, 

Of Cleveland, Portsmouth, Crofts and Arundel, 

Moll Howard, Sussex, Lady Grey and Nel, 

Strangers to good, but bosom friends to 111 , 

As boundless in their Lusts as in their Will.” 

Hatfield Spirit. During the quarrel for the succession between Mon- 
mouth and York, the ghost of Lucy Barlow, Monmouth’s mother, 
is said to have appeared to a virtuous lady at Hatfield and declared 
the legitimacy of her son and the existence, in the famous “ Black 
Box”, of her marriage contract with Charles II. 

Her great Prince, i.e. The Duke of York. 

Churchill. Miss Arabella Churchill (1648-1730), mistress of the 
Duke of York, to whom she bore three children. She afterwards 
married Charles Godfrey, Esq., Clerk-Comptroller of the Green 
Cloth and master of the Jewel Office. She was Maid of Honour to 
the Duchess of York. Hamilton says she was a “tall creature, 
pale-faced, and nothing but skin and bone,” but adds to his descrip- 
tion a story of her falling from a horse, from which we are to inter 
that the lack of beauty in the face was compensated by the unexpected 
attractions of her legs. 

( 403 ) 


p. 322, L 11. Asses Milk Venereal disorders were treated by administrating the 
milk of an ass that had been subjected to inunctions of mercury. 
The object of this curious method was to give the patient the 
advantages of mercurial injection without the dangers attendant on 
its direct application. Casanova in his Memotres is somewhat 
sceptical about the efficacy of this treatment. 




Absent from thee I languish still 1 3 

After Death nothing is, and nothing Death 48 

Against the Charms our Passions have 65 

A Knight delights in Deeds of Arms no 

All my past Life is mine no more 1 7 

All the World can’t afford 147 

All things submit themselves to your command 8 

All this with indignation have I hurl’d 40 

A Load of Guts, wrapt in a sallow skin 146 

An Age in her Embraces past 1 1 

Ancient Person for whom I 14 

As Charms are Nonsense, Nonsense seems a Charm 52 

As Chloris full of harmless Thoughts 22 

As in the days of Yore were odds 1 26 

As some brave Admiral in former War 41 

At five this morn, when Phoebus rais’d his head 1 22 

At the Sight of my Phillis from every part 109 

Behold these Woods and mark my Sweet 80 

Betwixt Father Patrick and his H ghness of late 99 

Bur ting with Pride, the Loath’d Impostume swells 64 

By Heavens! ’twas bravely done! 106 

Cselia, that faithful servant you disown 9 

Cha te, Pious, Prudent, C the Second 86 

Cloe, by your Command, in Verse I write 26 

Conquer’d with soft and pleasing charms 1 35 

Crusht by the just contempt his Follies bring 63 

Disgrac’d, undone, forlorn, made Fortune’s Sport 147 

Fair Cloris in a Pig-Sty lay 24 

Farewell, False Woman! know I’ll ever be 106 

For Lusty Vigour we kind Nature thank 73 

Fruition was the Question in Debate 1 16 

( 405 ) 


Gentle Reproofs have long been tried in vain 

Give me leave to rail at you 

Great Charles who full of mercy couldst command 


1 21 



Have you not in a Chimney seen 

Have you seen the raging Stormy Main 

Here lies a Great and Mighty King 

How blest was the Created State 

How now, brave Swain, why art thou thus cast down 

Husband, thou dull unpitied Miscreant 







I cannot change as others do 
I could love thee ’till I die 
If Rome can pardon Sins as Romans hold 
If you’re deceived, it is not by my cheat 
I hear this Town does so abound 
Impia blasphemi sileant concilia vulgi 
In a dark silent shady Grove 
In all Humanity we crave 
Insulting Beauty you mispend 

In the Isle of Great Britain, long since famous known 
In verse to ease thy wretched Wants I write 
I promis’d Sylvia to be true 
I rise at Eleven, I dine about Two 
I wench as well as others do 





11 7 






Let Ancients boast no more 

Long time Plain Dealing in the haughty Town 

Love a Woman ! you’re an Ass 

Love bid me hope, and I obey’d 





Marriage, thou State of Jealousy and Care 
Methinks I see our mighty Monarch stand 
Methinks I see you newly risen 
Must I with Patience ever silent sit 
My dear Mistress has a Heart 
My Goddess Lydia, heav’nly Fair 







Naked she lay, claspt in my loving’ Arms 
Nature, Creation’s law, is judg’d by Sense 
Nothing adds to your fond Fire 
Nothing ! thou elder Brother ev’n to Shade 

Of a great Heroin I mean to tell 
O Love ! how cold and slow to take my part 

( 406 ) 





One day the am’rous Lysander 
O that I now cou’d, by some Chymic Art 

Phillis be gentler, I advise 
Pity fair Sappho ! one that dies 

Preserv’d by wonder in the Oak, O C s 

Pride, Lust, Ambition, and the People’s Hate 
Prithee now, fond Fool give o’er 

Respite, Great Queen, your just and hasty Fears 
Room, Room, for a Blade of the Town 

She was so exquisite a Whore 

Since Death on all lays his Impartial Hand 

Since the Sons of the Muses grew numerous and loud 

Six of the Female Sex, and purest sect 

Some few, from Wit, have this true Maxim got 

Sternhold and Hopkins had great Qualms 

Such perfect Bliss, fair Cloris, we 

Sweet Hyacinth, my Life, my Joy 

Sylvia, ne’er despise my Love 

Tell me abandon’d Miscreant, prithee tell 
The clog of all Pleasure, the luggage of Life 
The Gods, by right of Nature must possess 
The Heavens carouse each day a Cup 
There sighs not on the Plain 
The utmost Grace the Greeks could show 
Thou mighty Princess lovely Queen of H . . . . 

Tho’ weaned from all those scandalous Delights 

Tir’d with the noisome Follies of the Age 

’Tis not that I am weary grown 

To all young Men that live to Woo 

Too long the Wise Commons have been in Debate 

To rack and torture thy unmeaning Brain 

To this Moment a Rebel I throw down my Arms 

Vertues triumphant Shrine! who do’st engage 
Vulcan contrive me such a Cup 

Well, Sir, ’tis granted, I said Dryden’s Rhimes 

Were I who to my cost already am 

What cruel Pains Corinna takes 

What doleful cryes are these that fright my sense 

What pleasures can the gaudy World afford 

( 407 ) 

What strange Surprise to meet such Words as these 
What Timon, does old Age begin t’approach 
Where is he gone whom I adore 
While in divine Panthea’s charming eyes 
While I was Monarch of your Heart 
While on those lovely Looks I gaze 
Whilst happy I triumphant stood 
Wit has of late took up a trick t’appear 
Woman was made Man’s Sovereignty to Own 

Ye sacred Nymphs of Lebethra be by 
You Ladies all of merry England